The woman looked at me and with scorn in her voice said out loud
“You say you are a writer, yet you say you were bought up in Birmingham,
Ha…it’s brought not bought you fool.” She sounded angry and proud
And I just smiled with a glint in my eyes as I tried to explain I was found next to a dram
…Well a bottle really of finest malt and a packet of 20 Silk Cut fags
Which lay on the shelf of the local Co-op on aisle three.
The people who bought me had had their own shopping bags
And good old Co-op stamps in which to save some money in which to purchase me.
I must have seemed like a bargain, especially as the cost of loo roll had increased
The previous week to tuppence and a quarter ounce of Sherbet balls out of price
I guess they had enough stamps in one go to buy me and not just to be leased
For they even dismissed that night the idea of eating curry and rice.
For every aisle there sat a new-born baby, blooming, covered in lard, oven ready in two
Hours, conceived in seconds and yet no stuffing required. Just heat well to avoid
Turning into an undercooked screaming machine that ends up with brains as stew
Not using the intelligence the Co-op stamped and barcoded on the foot, ready to be annoyed
That the thought of one digit in the wrong place and the baby on aisle three
Could have been labeled as Heinz Sauce, Spaghetti Hoops or at worst
A cheap bottle of lemonade marked down because the bubbles just weren’t right
And the taste bitter, not quite sweet and unable to wet the thirst
Ah now that for a baby found amongst the Silk Cut doesn’t sound bright.
The woman looked at me as if my mind was not my own
“Stupid boy.” was all she said and turned away, tapping her head as if I was ill
Or I would say anything to get away from a simple mistake and not atone
For a word out of place, a poet’s moment, a slip of the quill
I smiled as she stomped off, thanked my mum and dad and the Co-op stamp
That they saved and purchased my pram, my toys, a life with no limits, boundaries or tags
That they gave with love to a loveable scamp
Found on the shelf between the drink, the sherbet dip and the Silk Cut fags.
Ian D. Hall