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Strange encounter

February 13, 2020

 

 

Pot Boiler

 

 

 

He sat

 

Earphoned

 

Wired up

 

Shirt like Ken Done vomit

 

I fell into his catchment

 

Before grasping how pissed he was

 

Soon to be the pall bearer

 

Of his streamlined vitriol

 

Carried conveyor belt like

 

Into my awareness

 

As the wards of vengeance waterfalled

 

Smashing on rocks

 

Creasing his face

 

My curiosity waning

 

In line with his rising

 

Retribution to Be

 

‘I’m the Neighbour from Hell’

 

He declared

 

Following it up with bouts

 

Of ‘cunt, fuck and bitch.’

 

 

 

I downed my one and only beer

 

Faster than intended

 

And left him to

 

His volcanic sprout

 

A man of intelligence and money

 

According to him

 

Which I did not doubt

 

And his barrister’s business card

 

Flashing the promise of tomorrow.

 

 

I didn’t wish him well

 

No matter his position

 

Current or future

 

Nor ponder his outcome

 

As the bunny was already boiling

 

Which undoubtedly leaves

 

The flesh scarred red

 

And leaves behind

 

A stinky residue.

 

 

 

 

12.2.15

 

 

 

This was based on a real incident, as it sounds,

 

but I can't recall the details. More than likely, I wrote the poem that night.

 

 

 

Hardly a Love Poem but once upon a time, people did meet in bars. Does it still happen? Is dating apps the only way to go? Is Romance dead? Love to hear your thoughts.

 

 

 

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