Miss Dust Tries Online Dating
“Miss Dust, you may ride in my car if you like.”
He took her to dinner & ordered for her the dark.
“What a nice dark you have chosen!” Miss Dust said.
The heating went off; she pulled her skin up
higher around her neck & said,
“Turbo, I’d like to hold your hand if I may?”
When the waiter came,
he was carrying a tray filled with crumbs;
the crumbs were begging to be eaten,
“Poor crumbs,” Miss Dust said,
let me warm you up in my mouth.”
Miss Dust Makes it to the Second Date
When she was a woman,
a man knocked on her door & said,
“Why are you wearing my dress?”
“Why are you wearing my trousers?” she replied.
“Why don’t we swap?” he said.
“Now you’re talking!” said Miss Dust.
The trousers rode high & were rather loose,
so she secured them
with a skipping rope, chucked on
a CD & said, “You lead”
Miss Dust Dreams of Slim Green
He is kissing his wife passionately
in front of the tsunami,
the big wave is frozen behind them,
the lip has that green-white
tinge you get in oil paintings,
& Miss Dust, transfixed by the moving lips,
forgets all about the wave, threatening
to demolish the tussock, the grass
banks, the bleached houses
lining up along the shore.
One day Miss Dust hears him
playing piano behind a door,
as she edges closer to the white paint,
she swears he’s getting her
right between the jeans,
she never even knew
he played piano before,
& even if she’d known,
she would’ve been surprised
to hear him do it so tenderly.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Johanna Aitchison lives in Palmerston North and teaches at International Pacific College. Her third volume of poetry, Miss Dust, will be published by Seraph Press in 2015.