One down

He sits alone
at the table nearest the toilets,
his body draped in over-sized flannel checks,
his beard longer than his face.
He watches the customers
who march in from outside
and waits for the ones who stop
abruptly just behind him, turning
their heads left and right.
He lets a couple of beats play out
before, Looking for the gents?
Just there, mate

and goes back to pretending
to do the crossword
with one hand around his pint glass.

© Carl Burkitt 2021

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