A Battery

A Battery

‘A battery,’ he said, quietly, slowly.
‘What love?’ she said, looking up
from her morning dive
into Kellogg’s finest.
‘You need a battery!’ he said,
now with more gusto,
like he’d just woken up
or swallowed an actual battery.
‘What for?’ she asked, all casual like.
‘That thing you call a car,’ he replied,
all cocky like, knowledgeable even.
‘I’d prefer flowers,’ she said,
flicking the ash off her benson tip.
‘You can’t run a motor on flowers love!’ he said, smiling to himself,
pleased with his first
smart comment of the day.
‘True,’ she says,
‘but I’d like to try.’

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