Sunday, 13 September 2009


I watched three tramps
kick almighty fuck
out of some other tramp,
over something or another.

In the park, this was. In the middle
of the day.
In the sun.

I stood and watched
and knew I should have done something.

And while this guy's face is being turned into hamburger,
I'm just standing there.

Maybe it's because it's like
slowing down to look at a car crash,
you see the twisted metal and shattered glass
and think, thank Christ that wasn't me.
But then, this was real, visceral, taking place
not ten feet from me.

Finally they stopped.
They staggered back to their bench,
out of breath,
left their fallen comrade
lying in a bloody wrecked heap
in the glorious sunshine.

And as I turned and walked away,
having done nothing,
having been no-one,
I mused that sobriety has teeth,
and they bite deep to the bone
when the world presents you
with such a tawdry atrocity.