In the belly of the boozer
roars scream on,
elixir hits oesophagus
and rolls on down,
hazing up the bloodstream,
bums caressing chairs,
don’t know how we
got here—does
anybody care? Splatter
clings to walls and
through it all we
drown in
flying bar stools, kamikaze
fists in aimless flight—
I want a pack of peanuts
then it’s fish & chips tonight.
Darts hit earlobes, zoom,
as gasps rasp the shady room,
in the eye of the ale house
storm, waiting for my
brew. Can you hear that
cacophony of flapping
bingo wings? It’s like the
buzzing of the
bees. Get another round
in please, before I fetch
my coat. Alight to smog-
choked streets once more.
I’m going home, alone.
Dan is a content writer by day and a scribbler of odd ball fiction by night. Some of his work features in Granny's Tea, The Poetry Cove, Ink, Sweat & Tears, aAH! Mag, Black Pear Press, and BBC Radio Berkshire. He also likes beer, Bukowski, and slapping the bass. He is also the co-founder of The Nuthatch.
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