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.