Four guys, passing time, sitting in a bar
Red light illuminating our table
Waiting to go on, asking them to pour
A Guinness. Have they finished? All bubbles...
So they pour it again...It's drinkable
I did intend to do some songs tonight
But bottled out, feeling too vulnerable
Some other night, some other night, I might...
Some sink a drink or two to lose the fright
And loosen the tongue, raise the mental bar
But I think drink makes thoughts unthinkable
The first guy's on, fretting fingers in flight
It takes some guts to put on a guitar
Mine waits at my flat, quiet, invisible
Written while waiting to do performance poetry at the Iguana Bar, Manchester
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