Cornershop 2
kiss my fucking black arse, the Jamaican
screamed at the shopkeeper from Kashmir.
he replied, look at how he’s sweating!
his nose is running. you look like you got flu.
where’s your mask!
& cover your mouth when you’re talking!
fuck you, the Jamaican
screamed. just give me my bloodclart vodka!
the shopkeeper fiddles with his face mask
placing it over his nose and mouth –
angry eyes, shoving on woolly black gloves.
i got the exact money for this guinness
& place the change in the shopkeeper’s hand.
good night lads! then i depart the corner shop
as fast as i can.
Poetic Prose: Cornershop 3: Rainy Sunday Morning, Guinness, And A Headline Surprise