Bite Me, Dracula - a poem

Bite Me

Did the vampire eat his wife for dinner?

Clearly not said an elegant elderly man reading my pussy

t-shirt in the second-hand bookshop of Saint Columba one Tuesday

‘White Fuzzy Cat’ limited edition 1/150 by The Vampire’s Wife

it’s Nick Cave’s wife Susie’s fashion label my tongue twisted

this tall man with a Harry Styles wave in white would know

who I was talking about

people in musty bookstores have higher IQs

score well in general knowledge quizzes

win daily at Wordle ardle oodle

or enjoy the hunt for cheap Presbyterian reads.

 

I found some cheap reads

my Lily Max children’s novels published 8 years ago

Book #2 as new, 2 bucks

Book #1 well thumbed, 4 bucks

Book #3 no where to be seen

I wrote these I told fuzzy bum the cat who’s actually black

I should have looked to see if a child had pencilled their

name on the endpapers - offered to sign them

taken an author with book selfie - put it on Insta

then I spied Prince Caspian galloping a black horse in a black forest

C S Lewis, 2 bucks, mine, browned pages, print so small a shrew

would don its headlamp.

 

Why did they use Times New Roman 6.5  in the early days of publishing?

Was everyone well sighted back then from fatty mutton chops and

quarter acres of boiled carrots in parsley sauce

the shop smelled of parsley sauce, the carpet thin sage.

We get a lot of famous people in here said the volunteer with

Barbara Cartland hair and a big voice

that women wrote these books she exclaimed after me

Fuzzy Cat mewed

Susie might have smiled

white Harry clutched Bram Stoker

and a lone ego floated briefly above the carpark.