Dour old sourpuss

Dour old Sourpuss

 

Dour old sourpuss

Sour old dour puss

I met you at the bus stop

God I can talk

and so can you

but I do to fill the silences

to quieten the thoughts.

You said that I annoyed you

You wouldn’t explain why

You thought that I was a soft touch

Somebody with porous boundaries

“I’ll help you do that”

“I’ll help you do this”

I realised what I was doing and withdrew

and that threw you.

You thought that you would benefit

from a man like me

but thank God I managed to see     

and then to flee.

Now the occasional contact

to ascertain whether I can be leant on,

but I can’t

and I realise that you are

a dour old sourpuss.