Child watched your smile, the old boy handclasp
She heard the easy patter, laughter
She didn’t speak and heard you sell them.
The art of working rooms:
The salesman’s wink with drink in hand
Cigarettes to highlight gesture
Stock props to make the sale.
Girl watched your form asleep on sofa
She heard your snarling voice, the cursing
She feared to speak and hid from conflict.
The lie of happy home.
An ever-present drink in hand
Cigarettes well-used as buffer
All plied to hold the guise.
Teen watched and waited for some notice
She listened, eager for some guidance
She did not speak but ached to hear you
Sage words were never spoke.
Your drink was always clutched in hand
Cigarettes you gripped with malice:
Tools used to craft a void.
They came and joined with you in laughter,
Both cronies, strangers loved your stories.
All spoke their chat; your ear turned raptly.
No use of prop just charm.
The beers unhurried, drank with cheer
Cigarettes no longer wanted —
Recast as Good Old Roy.
Miss watched you with them and felt envy
She listened to your easy banter
She wished to speak but sensed before her
Indifference, no love.
Sad monkey waited all her years,
Yearned for warmth, some kindly word
To find she had no name.
