Ron doesn’t actually live on the cut, <br />He just travels back and forth a lot, <br />Chatting to anyone who will listen <br />To his alcohol-soaked speech. <br /> <br />He dresses in black <br />And has a black bike <br />On which he balances precariously <br />Whenever he deigns to mount it <br />Which isn’t very often <br />Because it has a habit <br />Of slipping sideways. <br />It's a bad bike! <br /> <br />He’s well-known along the cut. <br />He’s been there for as many years <br />As my mother could remember, <br />Bless her soul. <br /> <br />Ron laughs a lot <br />Especially at the slogans on the front <br />Of women’s teeshirts. <br />He found mine hilarious <br />And kept repeating <br />“French Connection” over and over <br />As if were the funniest thing in the world <br />And in the end <br />I thought it was, too. <br /> <br />His eyes will wander to empty spaces <br />And distract him, and make him <br />Answer questions which weren’t asked. <br /> <br />As he rolls a spliff he apologises <br />That he hasn’t enough to share <br />But will share the contents of his wallet, <br />His ragged driving licence, other documents, <br />All laid out neatly on the top of the boat, <br />A process he does several times each visit. <br /> <br />Ron will stay as long as his beer lasts <br />Or until I have a job to do below decks. <br /> <br />I can usually think of something!<br /><br />Francesca Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ron-of-the-cut/
