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Auntie Eileen

Her thoughts were sheltered by her shallow smile,
And buffered by her orange lipstick.
Yet somehow they filtered through;
Men never gave me nothing
And now you can have some.
As she punctured the atmosphere
With her pernicious perfect grin.
I watched her as she danced to the memory
Of her white days, and the babies who slept
On her sideboard in picture frame cots.
As she flicked her fag ash and waltzed on.
Mum and Nan whispered her life as a warning
As she washed up the plates in cold water.
And looked like a film star.
As she went over the script in her head.

My life is a soiled sheet
The world is a wet place
And everyone falls through the hole.

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