POET’S CORNER

This week on Poet’s corner I have decided to share a poem by Cormac McCarthy, our Express Film & TV Editor. The poem is about delicatessens and will definitely make you hungry.  I strolled through the city,Craving something with girth.Till I came to shop,And I laughed with such mirth.My stomach was rumbling,A roar unheard,But my conscience was quelled,My angst just assured. “centra” the sign said, So indeed I rushed in Ignoring the stench And Ignoring the din.  I came to the altar  The hallowed deli.  “This”, I cried aloud,  “Shall fill my void belly”.  There was a queue naturally,  For the girl behind the counter.  Had we met another time  I would have liked to mount her.  The bastards in front   Rendered me forlorn;  Deliberating over  Getting chives or sweet corn.  Finally my turn  did come  My spirits did lift.  But the poor girl was tired  From an eight hour shift  What did I desire?  The same as the rest.  A sumptuous bread roll,  Filled with a crisp chicken breast.  She looked at me  And began to mutter   I replied “I beg your pardon”  -“Mayo or butter?!”  -It was abundantly clear  -From this point on  -That this chicken roll  -Would be all wrong   -The girl had no passion for the art  -Of preparing this pleasure  -To her ‘‘twas a job   -But to me it was a treasure.  -So she handed it to me;  -Halved in white paper.  -I took it with caution   -And said “ see you later”  -Walking to the  till  - Checking up on the price   - Four euros fifty   - It had better be nice  - So I took this sandwich   - Stripped the wrapping with haste  - And I sunk my teeth with a grin  - To ascertain the taste   - But no grin came to me  - I was stunned, in a daze  - That cow of a girl  - Had but in mayonnaise   - That poison nay filth  - hat passes for spread!I swear to you my dearI wished I was dead.For then I would not haveThat sickly slime on my tongueThe anger it burned,The pain it stung.Thinking back to the serverWho had composed this swill,With no effort put in,Just time to kill“The centra,” I said to myself: “Had no pride nor placePerhaps next timeI’ll try the deli in mace.