All Those Days in the Wild.
Bent back lateral incisor,
Changed his path,
When that skinhead,
Wrought his furious wrath,
And stuck the swasticad head on me.
I remember the smell of the snooker hall
As my skull bounced back
From the sandstone wall.
Alone on the ground.
From the first floor my face said hello,
In an unscheduled meeting with the concrete below.
Foursies top: all upper central and lateral incisors,
Remember the fall,
The crack and the blood, the laugh and the thud.
Satan’s granite nurse,
Who requested the number,
Which didn’t exist.
Saw me angry and punk,
Stoned and baked or spitting drunk.
Foursies broke, I lost my smile,
And it never came back
For a good long while.
Now weary, loved and manners mild,
I like to think back to those days in the wild.