Please understand, I’m no Holly-
my cat is named after the lady
who appears on the post card
that stands on my desk,
leering and pushing me on.
I can’t afford the super-rat love,
I’m not so wanted as that,
and I’ve no secrets.
I cannot play guitar.
(Some people sail down Moon River
entirely enjoying the view, fancy that.)
We do not go lightly into that goodnight,
but I think Holly would get there first,
and she’d have to take two sets of oars,
whereas I’m no Holly at all-
I keep it quiet in here.