Delivery Driver:

You recognise him; the stance; the mumble;

Six tons of sandy loam (in bags) in there?

The sharp intake of breath, like a tiger wheezing.

Can’t be done, he growls.

You suspect it can.

But he rolls out excuses like Tony Blackburn

spins hits from the sixties.

Too narrow; too high: health and safety:

Sorry love, he purrs.

You know he’s not. From the gleam in his eye

you see you lost your brains with your waist.

No sensible woman would expect him to unload

six tons of sandy loam (in bags)

on the slope behind the wall, in a garden,

like yours; with a drive that’s too narrow.

He says he’ll dump them in the road, if you want.

Six tons of sandy loam (in bags) in the road?

Lethal!

Not his problem; he’s offered.

If you don’t chose to take his advice, what can he do?

He hasn’t got all day and you’re the one who ordered

six tons of sandy loam (in bags) in the first place.

Expecting him to deliver it.