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the outing

The outing

 It was a sunny Sunday we drove to a park
that has an old house in the middle selling paintings
some of them are good but mostly plenteous crap,
I know enough about art to see the difference.
Naturally, the place was closed since it was Sunday.
But going up a ramp to the park a driver buzzed his horn
they do that a lot in Portugal I told the driver what I thought
My wife said I was rude; she can be friendly
to everyone get waitresses to tell their banal sob story.
She- my wife-enjoyed herself thoroughly going in and out
of small shops selling things, she couldn't possibly afford.
On the terrace of a posh restaurant sat to women eating
Meat on skewer drinking white wine looking like expensive
prostitutes or solicitors, but they were not alone many suited
men drank too, and I wondered how the hell they can drive
after this.
 I bought a pure hot dog but could the fuckers get
it right, filled it with all sort of shit 6.50, please. Fuck off, all
I wanted was a bloody hot dog at 2.50.
Sat on a wall waiting; finally, she declared it had been a fine
outing and I drove her home.
Written by oskar
Published
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