Who are you?

I remember a friend telling me

of his trip to America,

parking in front of a diner

and being surrounded by

a gang of Hell’s Angels bikers.

Looking concerned

the waitress re-assured him,

don’t worry sir,

they’re all dentists

they come here every Wednesday.

I saw a chap at an open-mic

a right herbert,

tattoos, big hat, multicolour waistcoat

bad language,

spitting through his beard.

Off stage very popular,

obviously local, people offering drinks

signing his pamphlet,