Lunch Time by John D Robinson

Surrounding the library
and council offices are
small stretches of
flower-beds and benches
and concrete slabs;
I settled in with a
freshly made sandwich,
opposite sat a wino
sucking on a wet
cigarette and the near
empty cheap bottle of
wine slipped from his
grasp and smashed
upon the concrete and
bled life into the
dust and dirt and I
saw the loss, the sadness
deep in his eyes as he
looked down
and as I bit into my
sandwich
he rose unsteadily to
his feet and cursed
beneath his thick matted
beard,
he farted loudly before
lurching into a
angry chorus of car
horns and shouts from
pissed-off drivers,
who
didn’t know or care
about his recent loss.

john-d-robinson-2

John D Robinson is a published poet; ‘When You Hear The Bell, There’s Nowhere To Hide’ (Holy&intoxicated Publications 2016) Cowboy Hats & Railways’ (Scars Publications 2016); a contributor to the 2016 48th Street Press Broadside Series; his work appears widely in the small press and online literary online journals including Rusty Truck; Red Fez; Outlaw Poetry; Degenerate Literature; Haggard & Halloo; Beatnik Cowboy; Boyslut; Anti Heroin Chic; In Between Hangovers; Your One Phone Call; he is married and lives in the UK with his wife a dog 3 cats and copious amounts of wine.

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