WednesdayI August

A bar in Belgium

He still looks like a boy,
He’s only just pushing 20.
Boyishly brawny and very blonde.
Not pushy just feeling his way,
testing his weight,
weighing up the feel and look of adulthood,
sniffing the bar-room air:
Fried fish, cat piss and beer.

Sun reddened skin, raw from a recent shave and zealous scrub.
Clear-eyed and confident.
He scans the room.
Spots red lipstick.
A rag to a bull.
Tonight’s only Casanova,
throws up his feathers
and fluffs his chest.

Tonight he wants a woman.
Now he wants to spend his money on drinks
And a lady with red lipstick.
‘Let me buy these ladies a drink.’
A drink and no more.
The ladies just want to smoke in the sun.

They drink the drinks.
Buy themselves dinner and leave before his fun’s begun.