GIG

meet him in a pub up TC road

get the table in the window/good for watching people

smokers

and wet tourists

and students flush with spirits

and the guy with the sandwich board

plugging

electrics

first round is

four beers/two scotches/two scotch and cokes

cost

god knows how many pounds for the two of us

and

off 

we

go - cold glass glory

and

we

suck on the ice

cos

its

summer

barman clears empties away with cautious eyes

till we don’t give a fuck about the gig 

not really

but

fall

onto the District Line anyway

and

go

out to Hammersmith cos its always out in Hammersmith

till

the other end i go looking for a toilet in some sad and busy mall

leaving

him

to get

in strong coffees slumped on some coffee chain table 

mumbling

what a good idea or whatever 

while i loose twenty-pence pieces 

all 

over 

the toilet floor

meet someone else in some wine bar for short drinks 

and sudden drugs

then buy a bottle - or two

in an offy

to smuggle into the place past weak searches

and buy tall cokes with ice

we

top up in the dark

and sweat out

in

the rock and humidity and sweat

while

beer-guys behind in a cheering row 

all

shirts-off and banned fags 

chuck warm beer all around

i dont remember who was playing