Kodak Film and Saveloys
A rhyming poem
Those who didn’t grow up in Australia during the 70s and 80s may not be familiar with the words: ‘Winfield’ (a brand of cigarettes) ‘dingo’ (a type of wild dog) ‘fag’ (cigarette) ‘saveloy’ (a deep-fried battered sausage, also known as a ‘battered sav’).
......
Down gravel dust Flo comes waving
Eyelids blue, her beehive failing
Smoky whorls are waxing, waning
Winfield ash and pink hem trailing.
......
Ada frumps in dowdy dress
Wishing now she’d worn her best
The heat has left her face a mess
Ten years on, not one pound less.
......
“Really dear, you look divine!”
Flo’s breath reveals tequila, lime
“I’ve only just got here in time!
I met a gent just too sublime!”
......
Ada murmurs, “Howar ya Flo?”
Her gaze unfocused, accent slow.
“The shop’s still standin’, didya know?
But the old folks there, they hadda go.”
......
Flo blows smoke and Ada tenses
“A bloke who fixes dingo fences!
And in his spare time, makes eye-lenses!”
Flo sucks back her slipping dentures.
......
Flo eyes her old friend through the glare
Who kicks a pebble, avoids her stare
Leather skin and greying hair
Dry lips move in silent prayer.
......
“Well, this one-horse town still looks the same!
Can’t quite think now why I came.”
Poor Ada hangs her head in shame
As if she alone should wear the blame.
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“C’mon Flo, I’ll take yer bag.”
Flo agrees and lights a fag
Ada grins and thinks to add
“I’ll treat you to a battered sav.”
......
On the stoop, a group of boys
Farting, laughing, making noise
The sign above them grey and poised
Reads, “Kodac Film and Saveloys.”
......
The dame behind the counter frowns
At Flo’s posh hairdo, bright pink gown
Her horn-rimmed specs perched like a crown
Queen of the only store in town.
......
With greasy fingers, Ada pays
Then it’s back out into dusty haze
Where dogs and old men lull and laze
Ada mulls on younger days.
......
“So tell me Flo, how’s Bob of late?”
Ada’s one and only date
But such was fortune, such was fate
Bob was lured by pink iced cake.
......
Flo and Ada, chalk and cheese
“Bob, you see, was hard to please
I was always on my hands and knees
A boring housewife’s what he needs!”
......
Ada drags her slippered feet
Down the wide and empty street
With moistened eyes, she takes a seat
There Flo and Ada sit and eat.
About the Creator
Kimberley Silverthorne
Freelance writer based in the UK after 20 years in Spain. I write about the fascinating festivals and culinary delights of Spain at Food and Fiesta and the woes of food education around the world (among other things) at A Plot to Hatch.
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Comments (1)
well written