Muscles and skirts

Penny in the dollar

There are so many stories

In bars alone

Only slivers can be sought

But this guy charged on in

Muscled through obsession

And more than several syringes

(That much effort on your body

Has to detract from other pursuits

Such as intellectual ones)

And though I was quick to categorise him

I also had to acknowledge his expensive suit

(Though slightly too small

To accentuate his efforts)

So I figured that he must have something more going on.

A young woman hung off him

Dark skinned but blonde

With too much makeup

Yet an ass

Inside a skirt

Of upper stratospheric design

To make me forget her bestial companion

Along with other saliva leaking guys.

The problem was

That it was an inner city bohemian haunt

Full of hipsters and artists and fringe dwellers

Where I felt fairly comfortable

But I'm fairly certain the couple weren’t.

They went to the bar

Ordered

He turned and propped his elbows on it

Staring out to the throng

As if to say

I belong here as much as you 

Try to do something about it.

I kinda got the feeling

That attention was what he was after

And with half the crowd

Pretending not to look

At his girl’s legs

He got what he came for.

After one swift drink

He forged his own path
Straight out of there

Light on conversation

But heavy on attitude.

Suddenly we were all united

As though the whole place sighed

Even the walls felt better off

Without him
He wasn't our kind
but he was a kind
and I found myself smiling

As who doesn't secretly admire

A well-placed

Fuck you.

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