Bond Would Freeze Here 4.24.2009 Poem by Margaret Alice

Started the day with hot chocolate, the
temperature a bracing hot Siberian 16
degrees in Kingsley, Hermien is measuring
it carefully, but she pleads - Please don’t
complain, every time we say a word the
air-con breaks down; Jane and I in parkas
all wrapped up in woolly blankets

Poor James Bond would freeze to death here,
we would have to defrost him before he would
be able to continue his amorous conquests in
the movie to be filmed in Kingsley; oh dear,
those scenes will require a different title role
Bond girl than me, I don’t go in for that kind
of scene, I prefer being an Ice Queen

Much safer and more sensible because life is
not all that it seems; the physical world is but
an allegory of deeper meanings, I am really a
musical note, a minor b played on the piano,
with harmonics in thirds and sixes and deep
bass accompaniment, my signature tune
is Cross-Hand Boogie….