Petula Said. Poem by Terry Collett

Push the boat out
they used to say.

The world's
your oyster
another would say.

Don't count
your chickens
before they hatch
your mother
would say
if you got too
excited about
something
or other.

Look who's calling
the kettle black?
your sister said often
in arguments of intent.

Sticks and stones
may break
your bones
and all that
kind of stuff.

You see
the buses
pass by
faces at the windows
like lost souls looking
out of each one's hell.

I am not
that kind of girl
you told him.

What kind
are you then?

What kind indeed
you muse
watching girls
walk past
on the side walk
their hair dyed
or cropped
or let down
or pulled up
in a bun
or ponytail.

Not that kind.

What kind?
he said.

Not the kind
you think I am
you said
going red.

Girls these days
your mother said
not like when I
was a girl.

Bet they were
some things
don't alter.

Push the boat out
the sea is calm
you'll not drown
won't come
to any harm.

No smoke
without fire.

No lust
without desire.