90. tribe.

I swear it’s true –
the girl on the table in front
has a leprechaun
sitting on her shoulder,
and the little bastard’s laughing at me,
with his little green jacket
& his rosy cheeks,
he’s taunting me –
with his devil-may-care attitude
– he wants his fucking lights punching out
if you ask me.
I mean, barbed wire, mum,
guns ‘n roses shit, hearts & flowers,
I can just about stand,
but a leprechaun –
what’s all that about then?