‘Sweetheart’, he called me.
Clicked his fingers
like the snap of something
deep inside my head.
And when I got to his side,
he asided, Alright darlin’?
Smiling slyly at his mates
who looked a bit shamefaced.
And he ordered his drinks
with his practised leer
and dangled a note
to pay for his beer.
But when I leant in to take it
he pulled it away
so I had to lean across,
saw him wink at his mates
and that’s when the drink
went straight in his face.
Take it out of my wages
while I practice my Zen.
Sorry, not sorry
and I’d do it again.
Harry Gallagher
