POETRY: YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO LET WINE BREATHE… BOLLOCKS! BY PAUL TRISTRAM

I pushed the cork into the first bottle
with the handle-end of a switchblade
walking out through the Spar Shops in door.
Swallowing three glasses in two mouthfuls
then wiping my blood red lips upon
my ‘seen it all before’ Pirate sleeve.
Zigzagged down the straight and narrow
whilst walking across the grass
and I was just too busy being Great and Fantastic
to even think about shutting the gate behind myself.
I fed the animals in the park empathy,
I stick my middle finger up at convention.
Then I disappeared just when I was expected,
frustrating…yes…but boring…never
and with no Shepherd leading me anywhere.

Written by Paul Tristram

Barstool

Available to buy via Lulu

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