Come 8pm we’re locked away
with cable porn, sport from distant shores,
High heels click
down summer-softened streets.
Treble voices flutter tired leaves.
The women are on the prowl
with no quarry but each other.
If I were free to leave
I would watch them hit the bars,
dolled up, in packs —
at least, that’s how they used to be.
Debbie does Dallas, then Dannevirke.
In last night’s game, Drogba shoots, and scores.
My fighter levels up from Level 2 to Level 3.
Time drips from the clock’s tired hands
and slides to pool in the male-proof lock:
a simple trick with DNA.
She’ll come home and maybe she’ll want me.
If I could, I would take her now.
If I could, I would walk away.
Credit note: First published in Men Briefly Explained (IP, 2011).
Tim says: My first two collections, Boat People and All Blacks’ Kitchen Gardens, both have a section of speculative poems – some specifically science fiction, and others that pose (and even attempt to answer) various “what-if” questions. This is a what-if poem from Men Briefly Explained: what if men were locked inside at night?
The Tuesday Poem: You can check out all the Tuesday Poems at the Tuesday Poem blog – the hub poem in the centre, and the other Tuesday Poets’ work linked from the left.