Sunday, 27 August 2017

Sunday Morning Market Nightmare

Dogs to the left of you,
dogs to the right,
still more unseen in front of you,
hidden from sight.

Dogs at eye level
trying to lick your face,
more dogs still behind you
straining to give chase.

Dogs on long leases
of leather, rope and chain,
a thousand tripping hazards
to drive a man insane.

More arrive each minute,
still they’re crowding in.
the road’s too small and narrow
for all to fit within.

In the crush somebody stumbles
but luckily does not fall,
it’s worse than in the sales
at some big retail mall.

Impatience mounts to a crescendo
two men lock shoulders like two stags,
barging at each other
two old frustrated dads.

The crowd behind has halted
crumbles fill the air,
someone calls for them to stop,
someonelse is heard to swear.

The air is rife with tension
luckily soon dispersed,
no fisticuffs ensued
from this showy outburst.

But the dogs had got excited
they’re straining to break free,
there’s no policing presence
that anyone can see.

The summer Sunday morning
totters on undeterred
but below the surface simmers
annoyances unheard.

So if you come to fairs and markets
please come on your own
or with your wife or husband 
but please leave all dogs at home.

© Sheila Ash 27th August 2017

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