I can’t believe I have to fucking do this,
I can’t believe I have to fucking do this,
Is all that’s going through my head,
There’s only one place I should be – bed.
Nobody told me about the crying,
Nobody told me about the crying,
But here I am floods of tears pouring from my eyes,
From the depths of my stomach, I feel vomit rise,
But It doesn’t come,
I. wish. it would
Burp,
Burp,
Burp,
Just another burp.
Burping and crying, I descend the escalator to the tube,
I walk painfully slowly – feeling depressed and subdued,
I’ve just burped in a man’s ear, he looks around horrified,
I want to rage – have you ever had something growing inside ?
Have you ever even tried?
No. I thought not,
So let me burp.
I scowl at him,
he pulls out his phone,
Texting a friend?
Texing a friend, are you?
Really? underground?
Is it actually going to go through?
What are you going to say?
That there’s a mad crying, burping woman following you?
I sit opposite him on the carriage,
he’s suited, middle aged,
with a face annoyingly cleanly shaved,
for some reason,
to me, he has become,
the face of the patriarchy
and I am staring at him, weeping,
snot dripping out my nose,
burping every minute or so,
he looks scared,
actually he’s looking at me,
like I’m pathetic,
The patronising piece of
I bet he’s called Simon
Or Paul
Or Patrick
I bet he cheats on his wife,
and to his kids, I bet he’s not that nice
I bet he talks about money all the time,
and I bet he bangs on about red wine,
I bet he doesn’t understand a woman,
not really,
I bet he has never made one come.
I bet he wan’t there when his wife gave birth,
and suddenly I realise I am off the tube,
following him down the street,
my footsteps quickening, pacing behind,
as I think of all the things he signifies
He turns around and I hide behind a bin,
I can’t even remember – how did this all begin?
But. I. can’t. stop. following. him.
Now he has reached a gate,
Oh a front garden – ladebloodydah
He goes through it, towards the door,
which he unlocks and walks in,
and damn the curtains are closed,
I can’t see in –
Well, I guess that’s it,
Whatever it is?
But fuck I really need to piss,
I don’t suppose they will notice,
if I just pull my pants down here,
Oh yes clean cut man – danger, danger, danger,
I am pissing all over your hydrangeas,
and suddenly the curtains are open
and his whole family can see,
me, in their garden, having a pee.
He opens the window,
‘Get out, Get out. What’s wrong with you?’
I pull up my pants and trousers and run out the gate,
And I just can’t remember the reason for all that hate,
But I think we can assume the lesson to be:
If I burp in your ear, smile, nod in appreciation, even say why thank you –
Because there’s no telling what a woman, eleven weeks pregnant, might do.
