Smouldering, Mysterious Type Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Told my friend an anecdote* that made
us roll over in laughter, the troll rumbled
at the young man - It’s not right when a
lad is alone in a lady’s ‘boodwa’ - the lad
replied - It’s quite all right, I’m not alone,
she’s here with me’ -

My friend remarked she would not have
liked to have a chaperone all the time – I
thought about this – You and I would not
have noticed a chaperone; she would have
taken us into adventure and danger out of
pity for our boring lives

Since we are both the eternal wallflower
kind - we laughed even harder - what we
would give to become the smouldering,
mysterious type instead of being our-
selves, always worried about things
- to the point of suffocating -

My friend cannot forgive herself for saying
‘Heil Hitler’ to a Jewish lady teaching Spanish
dance when *she seemed to salute her; I still
feel a pain in my heart when I remember my
small daughter cried when I broke her magic
wand by accident

anecdote* = from “Moving Pictures, Terry Pratchett
‘Boodwa’ – boudoir
*she seemed to salute her = The lady made
Spanish dance movements that translated to
a Heil Hitler salute in Alet’s mind, all confused