The Boxer

Into a sweating pit –
By Christ – it stinks –
I am sense-rammed
by fag-drags & heat
& rude spits of beery
shouts from those held
outside by smokers’ rules
Inside it is a narrowing
of elbowed glasses –
of tipping arrogance
Booze kisses of men & women
who – between love’s swigs –
turn their eyes up
to high screens & updates
on their long & short bets
on their Main man –
Seconds out – Round One
& not a place for me
& my Waitrose bags

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