Jock in Brixton

cool black dude
on the wall
nice and friendly
not English
like the rest of London
this evening

off the wall man
with too much in his bag
waved in like an orphan

sits down touches fists
I’m a real relaxed guy
relaxed as a newt
he’s got the street
and something in his boot
a wife who smokes
but she’s not black
not from Barbados…
he’s just back

flashes a quarter
strangely shiny
I think
maybe its
the drink

he fumbles with
my trouser leg
(doesn’t seem like a mason)
then straight in
and facing me
socks it to me
only 20
none of your 35
how can
they charge that
good stuff too
nice to stop and chat
and plenty more
behind his wife’s

I grin
this is someone to grin at
I want to trust
this is a bargain
a cultural must
I take a 20 from my wallet
clasp fists on it
chuckle the chuckle of the smug
and go my way
thanks to him
I’ve made a score
done it with no plan
cool man
went with the flow
heart open
to a bit of blow
on the street
a secret only he and I know
my ankle
a new epicentre
for the universe

After an appropriate time
I reach down
and things get
infinitely worse
I find
a piece of
from the
black coal
of my new
night friend

It rankles
then I grin



















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