We left the theatre in high spirits,
passed the bars that hold the town
in surrender of its daytime elegance.
We were guided around the reds of
a crime scene - pocked, curtsy-fresh.
I pull my scarf tight around me, fix
my coat, turn to my uncle and say,
'Britain is awash with contradictions,'
our eyes immunised to the drunken
hoards as we pass. We tell each other
what we know of his trial. 'Much simpler,'
I said, 'if it had been Queensberry Rules.'
We moved through the revellers in silent
contempt, nod past the police officer,
turned left onto the High Street at the
beggar on the corner.
passed the bars that hold the town
in surrender of its daytime elegance.
We were guided around the reds of
a crime scene - pocked, curtsy-fresh.
I pull my scarf tight around me, fix
my coat, turn to my uncle and say,
'Britain is awash with contradictions,'
our eyes immunised to the drunken
hoards as we pass. We tell each other
what we know of his trial. 'Much simpler,'
I said, 'if it had been Queensberry Rules.'
We moved through the revellers in silent
contempt, nod past the police officer,
turned left onto the High Street at the
beggar on the corner.
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