To the lady gritting her perfect pearly teeth
(I never really saw them, but one can but hope)
at what I took to be some human rights abuse
in the inner pages of this morning’s Metro,

snarling a curse under her perfect minty breath
(I never actually smelt it, but one can but hope)
at whoever the perpetrators may have been
in whatever corner of this putrid planet…

You looked like my kind of red-hot/hot red mama,
so join me at a rally in Parliament Square,
or at an open-mike audition for comics
where we can be a political double act.

I was the little squit in Larkinesque thick specs
opposite you on a Piccadilly Line train
heading for Heathrow, where I flew my sad arse out
on business of an eminently toad-like sort.

I sensed you had the unique ability
to bring out my hitherto buried potential,
boost my confidence, direct me to Specsavers,
and sharpen my focus on the things that matter.

All I can offer in return’s my worshipful
homage to your own unassailed magnificence,
plus maybe a free accounting service for what
I suspect are messy affairs. Coffee some time?

“Nick Cooke has had over 50 poems published in a range of outlets, print and online, as well as two anthologies, Poems For a Liminal Age and To Kingdom Come. His poem ‘Tanis’ won the Wax Poetry and Art Contest in August 2016. He is currently working on his first collection.”