THE POUCH

Into the digestion track went the food.

And marmalade got to chewing.

Crunch and crunch- downwards it goes.

More input. Crunch some more. Slide down.

To join what is already there.

Though not so far down that it hits the

Sack and melts out into the extremity of

The body.



For there is a pouch

Just about half-way down. A detour from

The main route only it is fast becoming

The one and only. For nowadays the main

Route never gets a look in.



The food finds a resting place in this

Pouch and then it never thinks of leaving.

Soon it is turned into fatty substances and

That is how the pouch has come to be magnified

In size and status. It is growing past the

Limits of the now regressive body which

Seems these days only to be a small ligament,

Like a branch that hasn’t been pruned from the

Main force of life. Only this life is heavy.



Well, let’s go talk to Marmalade again

And get her opinion on all this.

Well it seems she’s left. She’s left

Her pouch behind and is breakfasting with

Some friends up the road.

Marmalade is a fine and robust

Figure of a lady these days. And that big-

Headed pouch of hers is beginning

To shrink to its true size in her absence.

Whoever said a girl needs a pouch

To get on in life?

Perhaps it’s the other way round and the

Implications of this should always be kept

In mind.