‘Lonely?’ they asked, ‘Now
that you’re on your own?
Get a pet’ they said.
‘A faithful dog
or a sweet little kitty.’
But no, I went out
and bought a parrot.
I thought it would be
the ideal companion:
communicative.
I thought I’d teach it
to talk. Ha ha to that!
It must have had
a previous owner. Or,
maybe the pet shop man …?
No. This bird could only
have belonged to a pirate.
Talk about language!
I could just see him sitting
on Long John Silver’s shoulder.
The first time
I dropped something
and uttered a mild ‘Damn!’
he went to town,
as if it was a cue.
Astounded by that stream
of colourful invective,
I didn’t have a clue
what half of it meant.
But it sounded amazing.
And you can find
anything on Google,
even the worst words.
Next time I listened closely,
looked them up and learned.
Now I’m a pro!
It’s fun living alone –
except for my parrot,
who teaches me
all the best words.