The Chandler's Assistant

[FranktheFrank]

Narrative poem

'She's berthed at Phoenix Warf, Fred
my boy. Lock your bike on a stanchion
and climb on board, you might have to use
a rope ladder. Don't worry, you'll get used
to it. And watch out fer them ship girls.'

He found the ship tied up to iron bollards
at the quayside. No ladder, he tentatively eased
his way over the boarding ramp. An officer wearing
a peaked hat eyed him from the bridge
he gave a nod to be polite, the man replied
with a lazy wave of the hand.

He strode aft, following the smell of cooking
The steward was busy ladling
hash onto enamelled plates,
'Wait here,'' he said,
be with you soon,' a distinct Swedish accent.

'Are you hungry young fellow?' The cook dished
out a plate of hash. It was good,
he'd already eaten, but couldn't resist.

An adjoining door swung open showing a cabin
with several bunks. A girl lay on one, not much older
than himself. She lifted herself up as he stared
at her breast, she winked; a nipple made a showing
through her thin cotton vest, more than a mere molehill

She leaned towards him, her breast wobbled
It was too much for him, he fled, clutching the order for:
assorted meats,
twelve loaves of bread
a gallon of milk
a cask of beer
ten gallons of red lead
one dozen pkts gossamer grade rubber jollies.

[BobBradshaw]

Fun poem. I liked the breast imagery, and the humor throughout. Its innocence has a Norwegian Wood vibe to it.

[FranktheFrank]

Thanks for comment and for reading, Bob.