Sneaking out the back with stealthy rubber soles,

Off-loading convention like an over-ripe afghan coat,

We ran off down the dark streets giggling like teenagers,

And into the pub, where time stood still – Freeze-frame.


All eyes turned upon us, pool cue poised mid shot…

We were the interlopers, outsiders… Aliens.

Aliens. That’s it! We could not have been stranger,

If we had jumped ship from a flying saucer.


You were tense, used to evoking this reaction,

I was blithe,amused by their incongruous stares,

I looked at you, with your yellow mohawk and slashed back cleavage,

Your parachute boots, unlaced and your harem pants…


I could guess that you were not the most staid client they’d seen,

but me? I was close-cropped squaddie type kitsch.

With camouflage khaki and Doctor Martin nine hole boots,

I was every right – wing locals wet dream ….Surely?


Nothing to see  here, except the dangling skull earring,

And the Anarchy t-shirt, maybe the red beret was camp…

Anyway the silence broke and we got served,

And we drunk a few beers before…


Running back to the theatre so as not to miss our lift,

And we arrived back as the play ended…

Our Drama coach, who had a leading role,

Asked us what we thought of the play?

“You were amazing, especially in the 2nd half…”

The look she gave us… She knew, Oh yes she knew,

We’d deserted her.



Dedicated to my friend Jenny, where ever she might be now.


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