‘58p on trap two’
In grandiose tones, completely
Unbefitting the fresh stench of
Piss assaulting my nostrils.
He uses the sweat of his trembling hand
To flatten his comb-over,
Then drips a selection
Of mangled foreign coins
Onto the counter.
‘Got a good price on that one.
If that comes in I’ll get a good bit back won’t I’?
‘Yeah’ I mutter as I accept the coins.
I really don’t care.
I’m trying to read Kafka and alleviate a sense
That somewhere between private school
And higher education,
Something went terribly wrong.