The Pub in Althorne -Written Sunday 30th October 2011 (Aged 36)

The Pub in Althorne

the pub in althorne was lovely
and that damn camper
to which we give
for more than metal deserves
protected us for the night
that pub though,
was very strange
to the barman
acting just like he was
from a guy ritchie film v diving and ducking
listening to his loud conversation
generously populated by the word, ‘fucking’
i am not sure
this remote place
which was frequented by passing families
wanted to hear this
or the locals propping up the bar
hopelessly pissed
learning at the barmaid
and openly making crude references
about her, ‘tits’
we huddled by the fire
the weirdness has snuck in, it had crept
we drunk a little too much
but eagerly crept to the van
and eventually, eventually, we slept

James Garratt – Sunday 30th October 2011

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More about this blog, The Boy Behind the Glasses, here

More poems from 2011 here

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