with a plastic bag of
clinking and cheap bottles
of red wine -
the early birds having long since
caught the worm,
as elderly Spanish women stare at me
whispering and sniggering,
as nuns make the sign of the cross
and the young professional
adjusts his tie -
from politics,
to horror films,
to death denial -
fear sells greater than fact,
but stone cold sober
knowing that this wine’s
a long overdue gift for a friend
that’ll never touch my lips -
I can’t help but play along,
as I pretend to stagger to
the back of the bus
as people desperately part
like I’m an anaconda
slithering through a plastic ball pit -
knowing that
in this life
fear can far often
be worse than fact.
Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician originally from the historically infamous city of Bristol, England. His written work can be found widely in print and also online. In 2019 his work will be featured in East London Press’ 3 Poets series and he also has two forthcoming poetry chapbooks - Writing Beer, Drinking Poetry (Concrete Meat Press) and In The Barrel of a Beautiful Wave (Holy & Intoxicated Publications). He’s currently living in Northern Spain where he writes, undertakes odd jobs and does his best to stay out of trouble.
Like it Gwil. Especially the anaconda bit!
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