For some C & C...
(& the words between asterics,*the words...*, are to be read as if in
italics)
Before The Last Bus For Alston
After watching the shoving we heard the first punch.
Then his hood came down, the beard came off,
and his red coat ripped when one, a Tyneside Roman,
grabbed him, head-butted him twice. Then he slumped,
just lay there as the kicking began. It was Auden.
*Nowt changes for ye, does it? Now be telled.*
Then his sack was up-ended and they crouched down,
shook then pocketed some parcels, swapped others,
but the large one wouldn’t fit under anyone’s coat.
Laughter, until the smallest, dressed as Franco, looked up
and, grinning, came over to me. *Take it,* he hissed.
It was thick gold paper with a red ribbon, and heavy.
He waits. I smell his beer. The bus doors swish open.
I don’t refuse. How can I. It’s Christmas.
Bob Cooper
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