Penn Common
Friday night
on my own again
rainy Wolverhampton
where the mist settles
in the dip
of Penn Common.
Golfers curse the dog
walkers, their shouts
lost in the glowering
clouds
backlit by the sun
and the crenellated
shadows of Hosking's tower
as Jack the Setter
seeks a lost stick.
Who are you with
tonight, I wonder,
what excuse will you
give me
why you didn't come
home?
Deadlines or office
politics?
A drink with the lads
in Accounts?
It doesn't matter
anyway.
I have another life,
too,
and whatever your story
is,
I can smell his cock on
your breath.
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