A golden pint pulled &
stood –
ready to sink &
be found waiting on a
refill via cleaned pipes
by a grubbing barman
who ‘cannot be arsed’ –
auld boys hover bar-&-
stool-stiff by a littering
of emptied snack bags
as a miserable dog sits
between shoe-shuffled
points of view –
I met a
brace of men I knew –
a
stood odd couple –
said
a few words
[compared
metaphorical cocks] & I
withdrew to my snug of
flattened ale
[a floating
halo of Harvey’s] –
Then
our retreat uphill to our
next homeward-set pub
of less grubbed bar-girls
[ale-weight of fantasies
rub us boozed-minded]