30 Poems: Day fourteen.

cheeseburger, french fries and colal

A quick phone call from a friend, describing the scenario he was a part of, at the local chippy. Enough material to inspire a poet.

Thus the basis of today’s humble offering.


Six of us, standing around, waiting for our burgers.

Tacitly acknowledging each other, without making eye contact.

If we were women, we would have struck up conversation by now.

Christ women can talk.

Pull out my phone. Thank god she hasn’t texted.

Fucking bitch.

Hurry up with the orders. Football’s on in a minute.

A quick scratch of the family jewels. Lousy bint can suck ‘em.

Probably sucking someone else’s by now. Whore.

Should have got mushy peas as well. Damn.

Better get cat-food while I’m out. Showed her. I kept the cat.

Fucking bitch.

Game’s started! Watch some of it on the greasy screen.

Rush home to catch the rest. Eat my burger in peace.

In the filth. With the cat. Crack a few cold ones. Get pissed.

Not gonna text her. Glad she left.

Fucking bitch.


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