Price Labels

Dinners we prepared furnishing our first homes
With Ikea’s creative objects revolutionising concepts
Until everyone complied and houses began
All to have a familiar je ne sais quoi.
Dressing tables with big blue round plates
Stainless steel cutlery colourful paper napkins
She always struggled getting rid
Of price labels stuck at the feet of Bordeaux glasses.
Sipping on cheap Chilean wines
Complementing one another for the choice
The excellent value for money I watched her scratch
Glued paper dreading who in the heavens had
Come up with such ridiculous practice of torture
By frustration a grotesque idea
Individual tags for each and every glass.
Oh the sweet nights of light-heartedness.
Ten years later I met her in a Swedish bar,
In Ikea’s homeland hugged her tight and began
Remembering the days reminiscing challenges
Enquiring about our evolutions what we had become.
‘You will never believe where I ended up’ a moment
Of suspense she promises to surprise me
Makes me promise not to laugh,
While she articulates a story of ironic life absurdity
Inhales deeper to confess her reluctantly committed crime.
‘I work for the Austrian competition pricing glasses
Sticking labels beneath their stems,
I tried not to press them hard for easy removal
But they scolded me, told me off, showed me the way.’
She laughed I followed though our laughter swiftly turned
Into bitter smiles toasting to better days
We solaced ourselves deliberating
‘At least we now drink good wine!’
[Featured painting: Women in Wine (TM) Series by Leanne Laine]