Blue Bell Period

A part fictional part reality account of time spent revolving round the drain of my local

 

A Pocket full of stars killing me softly w-/ a slow beat

            of drum sucking at my insides as the

world lurches sober in the spotlight whisked

            to the local w-/ emergency lights painting my

way along the Petrified Amber streets locked in step

            stumbling to rush along w-/ the burning lion desire

held by many a man dying of thirst

            shivering at the edges , charred , to look ahead

to the bright neon sign calling him

            imagined context worth mentioning in the introduction

 

sitting w-/ a drink in front of me then

            finding the shadow of a man by the door a slight

threat , covered in a cloud of mosquitoes, while the ethereal

blonde at the bar looks so fragile blowing away

            out the door as the wind picks up

whisking away the snaggle tooth beauty

            in her white cotton crop top stained where a punter

had knocked a shot of Cherry Sourz o'er her

 

Looking to the side at The Man breathing

            down my neck , so close ,  at such an angle that

his eye sparkled , after a few lines of China White that is ,

at the high angle set crazed as he panted along

            to the Kasabian track forgetting those days

in the background ebbing w-/ each sharp intake

            of his sour wine gum breath

 

staining his lips blue w-/ whatever concoction

he had been quaffing

            set aside as The Shadow in the corner

moved & by the corner of my eye

            I caught him helping himself to a shot

of Aireling Whiskey during the confusion of the

            Barmaid's abrupt flight

 

Still a shade in open view of the bar

seeming to absorb all the light from around him

            in some internal combustion feeding on

the shine his vacuum outline breaking up at

            the edges to float away in little motes

of absence

           

            A while after playing pool , two lads

giggled during the confusion of

            the Barmaids abrupt flight

            sharing a pint they kept huddled throughout

the game , moving as a crab as they each took

a shot , so close I wasn't sure who was playing

red until the black was potted & they broke

            away in mutual distaste of the loser

 

            I'm not even sure they knew who had

won in the end

            clucking their tongues in some African dialect

that somehow transmitted itself to me as

 two BlackCross Beetles clicking their heels

            in communiqué

            As they racked up the next game

after getting another drink to share , arm in arm ,

            very personal like

 

The Man was still staring at the back of my neck

looking like , a quick glance , he was about to say

something or was expecting me to turn around & open

conversation

            eyes like red laddered tights had been

stretched around two luminous white marbles

            speckled stained wood pupils dilating

at the creak of my chair

 

            Until he finally let out one more sickly

gelatine huff & left , lurching ever so slight

out the door , while I hadn't even noticed The

Shadow leaving while The Siamese Twins kept

up their game , perpetuum mobile

           

            quietly observing me quietly flicking

my gaze o'er every memorable face , a frozen statue

during the confusion of the Barmaid's abrupt flight

           

Pale lips sipping rum o'er the night's course

            shrinking in sight to collapse on himself

by the end of the evening

                        lost to all external stimuli

yet still able to make it to the bar

            each time the ice clinked in an empty glass

diamond fine looking like his small ugly face

            couldn't take the strain as

each drink took him further to

            oblivion

                        green at the edges , shivering

like a star's snap shot flickers in the pinstriped

sky

            & looking like he had something

on him

            we should shuffle o'er & ask

if he has

            swear I saw him give something

to old Johnny Blonde behind him earlier

            huddled in his tarmac hoodie

 

While I waited the crustaceans slowly

came o'er to whisper at my side

            nodding slight

I had what all wanted

            w-/ a pocket full of stars.

Author's Note

Tear This apart