I Imagine by John D Robinson

That he works as a labourer
in one of the local factories
and almost at the end of every
working day we exchange
snatches of verbal greetings and
facial gestures; he is about
5”4 and a little over-weight,
his face is permanently flushed
a red wine and beneath his
balding head, his cross-eyes
stare at one another at all
times; he is always dressed
in tough-man working boots
and army surplus camouflaged
jacket and trousers and he
smiles constantly through bad
teeth and he talks to
everybody that nears and
it is difficult to understand
his words as they struggle to
leave his throat and sound
muted and mumbled, but
he always appears ‘happy’
At the weekends I often see
him seated at a table outside
a local bar drinking a pint of
oblivion; dressed in his weekend
denims and yellow T shirt and
soft shoes and I imagine
that he lives alone in a small
rented room with a sofa-bed,
a microwave oven, a fridge, a
shower and shitter cubicle and
maybe a portable TV or radio
and not much else;
I imagine that he doesn’t
feel lonely and that he is a
hard working loyal employee
and that he’s never known
the love and sorrows of women
and the joys of children or the
strength of friendship but he
hasn’t missed anything, his time
and journey precious as any
and I don’t know his name or
anything about him or how
he would feel about this poem;
but I would imagine that
he’d smile anyway.

john robinson

John D Robinson was born UK in 1963; began writing poetry aged 16, 1st poem published a year later; over the years many of his poems have appeared in the small presses; of recent, his work has appeared in Bareback Lit; Red Fez; The Kitchen Poet; Dead Snakes.

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