The Last Person on Earth
I don’t know why I went,
I’d already heard about the time
a colleague’s husband turned up
at the staff barbecue and punched him.
We met at The Prince of Wales
but he refused to go in because
a sixth former was working at the bar
so he insisted I got in his car.
I said I’ve got nothing to hide.
We drove to The Black Bull
and talked over a pint.
On the way back to my car
he pulled over in Windmill Lane
and tried to kiss me. I ducked.
I remember his after shave,
how I couldn’t wash it off.
Back at school I sent a pupil
to fetch the TV we shared.
He came back, puzzled, and said
Mr C says he wouldn’t lend it to you
if you were the last person on Earth.
Carole Bromley writes for both adults and children. Winner of a number of prizes including The Bridport, Hamish Canham Award and The Caterpillar Prize. Twitter @CaroleBromley1 website www.carolebromleypoetry.co.uk