Poem: Georgie-boy

A big man. All bristles and bear hugs.

Hands like shovels.

He’d often huddle, in the boozer. Holding fort. Doms and stories. A regular user of the nations, socially acceptable, liquid drug. The gregarious giant. Loved by all.

Trouble is, he always wanted more. Pint and a nip. Froth on the lips. Sheer bliss, that first sip. Mum said he was clever, could have been a professor. Though I was never sure of what. Lost his Dad early. It weighed on him heavily.

Then, a familiar tale of relationships lost. No longer the boss.

Grasping for new hope, he moved to Blackpool. Of all places. Soon after, oblivion.