dash

Sunday Afternoon

keeping an eye
on self serve
& so bored I can feel
my eyebrows grow
you're on checkout fifteen
weighing some parsnips
& probably not
worrying about me
probably unaware
it was me who smashed
your seal mug
or that last night
I was sitting on Gary’s roof
pissed on half
a bottle of Morgan’s Spiced
tracing your freckles
in the stars


Nicholas Beaumont

If you have any comments on this poem, Nicholas Beaumont would be pleased to hear them.

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