Believe Or Not

Bob 'n Meg were on dark rum 'n orange,
right by the door for a quick getaway.
Twenty-seven empty Guinness bottles
covered the little table at the back.
David started putting stools up shouting
"Time to go lads. Finish your drinks."

Outside, warm soft fish oil air 'n a lean,
first front, then back, on the rust-pitted rail.
Out of nowhere 'n over to the side,
Billy 'n Noel punching vicious lumps, torn
collars, blood spattered fronts 'n lips.

A heart-thumping fight, pulled apart, calmed down.
Billy heaved away, dismissively looked
at white shredded knuckles, dealt with his snot.
"You OK, Billy? What was that about?"
"He said Angels existed 'n I didn't."