Sally down the road

Sally down the road

Sally down the road’s just had a baby 

I know because I saw her at the till

she smiled at me, a sadness in her eyes

as the test slowed to a still

Frank next door’s having marital issues

I can hear them when I leave in the hustle

and bustle of the early morning, yelling

like the chihuahuas at Ron's over the road

Tilly, Ron’s neighbour, lost her husband

ever since, she’s been cooped up at Sally's

or down the alcohol and cleaning aisle

to buy a variety of vodka, bleach and fly spray

Frank's wife Mary found our identical roof

a bit too appealing the other night

she stayed up there, screaming into the fog

and joining the wind’s whistling chorus

Sally was heading around Mary’s for tea

I was at the till when she bought the big red box

Mary was told to come down the easy or the hard way

I don’t think Sally knew what the easy way entailed

‘Such a quaint little village you’ve got here,’ a stranger says to me one day

‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ I say half paying attention as I scan her Maltesers and crackers

‘I might like to live here,’ she says and I’ll never see her again