Showbiz

 

Southern California

lying on a sun lounger

she only moves to blink

and the fly lands on her painted toes.

 

“Everywhere we went

auburn-haired hippies threw strings

of dried melon seeds at us.

Girls rammed their hard bodies against

the windows of our Rolls.

Teenage boys begged to suck our fingers.

They all wanted an eyelash, a lump

of lipstick, a handful of breast.

‘We’ve made it,’ I told myself.

 

“I met Bobby in the air-conditioned bathroom

of Cherry’s en-suite.

He was after sex of course.

Could hardly believe it when I told him

I was a virgin.

I let him kiss me with his tongue,

I fondled his frizzy hair.

When we married I wore a spandex

dress and shark-skin shoes.

 

“I bought a candy pink mansion

where the harsh screams of fans could no

longer be heard.

Bobby bred King Charles Spaniels.

He got a little mad,

said he had to escape to Sunset Strip

or somewhere he’d be appreciated.

The dogs missed him

 

 

“I was forty-five years old

when I made my come-back.

I still expected clamouring hippies and

teenage boys to be waiting outside the studio.

It felt weird when the producer didn’t

make a pass at me.

You’ve no need to tell me,

That’s showbiz.”

 

When I met her

at her Pacific Heights mansion

she persuaded her butler

to feed me elaborate

celery and eel parcels

while I attempted to ask questions

about her impressive blues and jazz period.

She remained unresponsive

except:

 

“In my family people were modest.”