Drunk Monkeys | Literature, Film, Television

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POETRY / disrespected / Tanner

Photo by Artam Hoomat on Unsplash

he had no mask
so I had to tell him
to leave the shop
and leave he did 

he went and waited outside 

he waited for me to my finish my shift 

he waited fucking hours

he jogged on the spot
and boxed his own shadow

he had his kids with him
two sons
it was a school day
but they weren’t in uniform
and they waited with him
for fucking hours
telling him “good swing, dad”
or “lead with the left”
as he showed them his jabs   

the older kid had a phone
and he kept recording his dad
then panning across to the shop,
a director planning out each frame  

sometimes he’d send the older one
to get water or food from other shops
and he’d give the phone to the younger one
you know,
in case I came out

and sometimes they’d both have to leave
because the younger one needed to go pee
and the nearest toilets were in the Costa
down the road
and his little brother couldn’t go there alone,
nutters everywhere these days  
so in that instance  
his older brother would take him
and the dad would keep hold of the phone
jogging on the spot
and glaring  

like that it went
for fucking hours

and now it’s getting dark

now the kids sit on a bench

“phone’s dead,” the older one says  
and the other one’s curled up like a cat  

but the dad still stands there
no shadow left to box
legs too bent to jog
just glaring

lucky bastard clearly never heard of
forced overtime. 

fucking hours of it.


Tanner has published 4 collections in 2 years. He's barely qualified for minimum wage and allergic to cheese, for God's sake.