Tavern Talk Poem by Martin Lochner

ordering a strawberry cocktail with a umbrella
exiting myself with a Mills and Boon paper back
I received for free after buying the woman’s weekly
grease monkey seat him next to me and ask:
What is on your hip chum?

Irritable I say:
A 48 raging bull revolver loaded with customized bullets that
fragments on impact and pierce body armour at a velocity
speed of get out of my face

Cool! he says and finds a other place to sit