Poem #22

He raised his wine,

Just to lower it twice as far:

A half-arsed toast.

The window scene

Swung full into view:

Five other guests, who of the botched

Behest, were ignorant. The culprit had

Burrowed his eyes into a stain,

Whilst failure snapped his neck at

90⁰.

He looked silly between the laughing bottles,

Like skinny jeans and gel amidst four

Women in corporate noir.

The kind of faux pas

To make a man say

‘I am just going outside and may be some time.’

 

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