Piccolo Knives.

When I saw you last,

talking too fast,

with your Gauloises & your Cola –

well, it just makes you look older to me.

 

It was dark in there,

yes, I know.

But I swear it said

Bay City Rollers

on that scarf wrapped round

your neck & shoulders.

Were you feeling cold, dear?

 

When Bowie had English teeth

he’d sing, he’d grin, he’d laugh, he’d bark!

Diamanté Dogs every night of the week.

On our street our boots spark!

 

Now, no one’s as cool as you think they are

and I’ve yet to meet a lady

who I couldn’t send half crazy!

I’d give her all my Green Shield stamps,

both my lava lamps,

Lovehearts & Spangles

for her piccolo knives!

 

We all have habits –

hard to break them.

My soul to shake them.

Just don’t mistake them

for piccolo knives.

Don’t mean to bore you

but I have to ask you,

dollface, have you heard the latest

by the piccolo knives?

 

And, she said,

“If corduroy is the cloth of kings,
throw away dirty denim jeans,
just walk away!
Cut up your favourite cheesecloth dress,
your silly Ché Guevara vest
& let’s call this a day.”

 

When Bowie had English teeth

he’d sing, he’d grin, he’d laugh, he’d bark!

Diamanté Dogs every night of the week.

On our street our boots spark!

 

When I saw you last,

talking too fast,

with your bullshit & your culture,

well, it just makes you look over to me.

 

 

©nickreeves

4 thoughts on “Piccolo Knives.

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