Strange encounter

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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