Well spotted, P. Not recent at all. Based on an incident over 30 years ago. My fighting skills have not improved - or been tested - since.
Cheers,
Bill
> On 4 Jun 2014, at 3:52 pm, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
>
> Thanks Bill I trust this was not recent - damp Carlton Street 3am -scary!!
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
> Behalf Of Bill Wootton
> Sent: 03 June 2014 22:46
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: The grip snap
>
> The grip
>
> Am I in a fight?
> How did this happen?
> Latent rippling neck strength
> threatening to u n c o i l
> from under my pinioning arm.
>
> 'Get them out,' Tara had said
> at the death of the night:
> a couple of gatecrashers
> tolerated in full swing party
> now unwelcome.
>
> The merry light in Tara's eyes,
> the lankness of the old guy's hair,
> no contest. What I saw as shunt,
> the younger guy saw as push
> towards front door exit.
>
> 'Hands off my dad.'
> Shoved into outside wall,
> my only recourse, execution
> of headlock. Used to work
> on my younger brother.
>
> But now, on damp Carlton
> street at 3 AM, dealing
> with beered-up umbrage,
> when fingers force apart,
> what Plan B will kick in?
>
> The pale girl, my housemate,
> is suddenly there. 'He's not
> like that,' she says, of me, inter-
> posing herself somehow
> between us.
>
> Easing off the last
> of my unbuckling hold,
> Tearaway glares, stumbles
> into night drizzle, arm
> around his unkempt father.
>
> 'Want a lift home?' asks
> housemate, Shirl. 'Nah. Thanks.'
> Shirl heads for her Vee Dub,
> I turn for Tara.
>
> bw
> 4.6.14
>
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