bobbing piecemeal

church bells sound antiquated

as you sit in McDonald’s hungover:

metal chime

behind

neon hum.

belief among fluorescents.

god, outnumbered.

some fat kid with Airpods just threw a gherkin slice at me.

we’re all outnumbered, in the same time and place

and the bus I was supposed to get goes past the window:

another shift I won’t make.

I throw a gherkin slice back at that fat kid

and his left Airpod falls out of his head.

he steps on it. it crackles like a burning beetle. he screams

and his glossy mum comes over

telling me I can pay for that.

I’d marry her

just to fuck her

once, loud and rough

while her fat kid sits horrified in the other room,

as his naked left ear can’t help but hear:

the smacking of her big tanned arse

like gherkin slices slapping my face.

the brass knobs of the bedposts knocking the walls

like church bells chiming.

catholic: catholic: a sad angry hungover rut.

she’s yelling now, her face shinier than McDonald’s cheese.

I can’t remember where I parked the car and I don’t even have one.

I am loving this hangover: the Freud, the flesh, the woe.

like I said: catholic.

then the church bells stop

and it’s just an argument in McDonald’s.