Al Fresco

The pleasing sound of

cutlery clink chink on plates.

Undulating voices spring

spirals of cheerful chatter.  

We smile, swallow and chew

until purple prandial fog

descends us into

serene satiety.

Without warning

an almighty blast

explodes in our ears.

Confusing in its incongruity

We freeze, eyes wide

until the realisation

I’ve been shot by a fellow diner

at such close range the bullet

passed straight through me and

into the person at my side.

There’s no pain

just the ringing in my ears 

SO LOUD

it wakes me up and 

I realise it was just a fart.

Reviews

[Iris]

Two words. Ending. Hilarious. Your head is an odd, odd, place. Who'm I to say that, though. Arguably, my head is probably a vast, bottomless pit full of the weirdest, most unmentionable things. Nice poem, as always.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

OH God that was great, love the twist at the ending… you know I once had a dream I was shot in the chest and I woke up I was having a muscle pain in my chest.