Farm on the Freeway – Brian Quigley

The old guy on the run-down farm

by the motorway on the edge of town –

Aqualung they called him,

after the Jethro Tull song –

said the puppies were going to ‘join the navy’.

 

The youngsters in the gang

thought this sounded

like a great adventure

and explained the excited wriggling

of the puppies in the stiff cloth sack.

 

I knew better

but didn’t want to say anything

lest I be associated with such a horror,

but I suppose by not saying anything

I was in on it.

 

By way of revenge

I felt I was that old guy years later,

smuggling cast-off teddies

in a black sack out to a skip.

Decorate and de-clutter,

the estate agent had said.

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