Poem: Devoted Devonians
About This Work
Devon is a county in England and as such Devonians are of that place. The last paragraph is a reference to the accent.
We stop at the ice cream shop
they get double scoops and I get a single.
She goes in to pay with her card.
She knows it does not work.
We stand outside and eat.
She is still in there.
As the queue gets longer behind her,
I think about running off
but I can never leave him.
He means too much to me.
I go in.
“Everything alright, Marsh?” I say to the wife
With my words, everything stops
the man behind the counter looks worried.
“I can't stand here all night trying to put your card through, don't forget your ice cream over there,”
he says gently.
I go to pay but realize he is letting us off.
We walk off and I wonder why I didn't have a second scoop.
“You know, lad, there must be someone looking over us up there.
When we left he probably said, those bastards come down here with their big city ways
trying to do us over all the time.”
I did it in my Devon accent and laughed at the sky
a thank you.
Most days I write so that has to make me a writer but as time goes on and I know I have to go out into the world to find things and people to write about, this becomes harder even though I think of myself as a reporter, a social commentator. This will probably tell people more about me than a list of where I come from and the facts of my life. This and the fact that if people get something from my work then that is great and that I am lucky enough to be able to write what I want to write.
© 2015 Marc Carver, used by permission