Pin prick of blood

The original was something like this.

And at the same time it was nothing like this.

It was carelessly scrawled in genuine longhand.

Laid out that way by a long-haired

fellow with a stout red pen

and a fondness for ale

and alehouse adjectives

slumped in the corner

of a dusty window

by a slow black river.

It was cunningly offered as art.

It was not double spaced

or on paper.

Accepted.

To the background of Mahler's 10th

on the crackly radio

the green buds of poetry

had opened themselves

and with his red-inked nib

he abandoned his verse

onto the white cardboard stiffener

laboriously removed

from the bargain shirt

with too large a collar

and with sleeves too short

- half price due to the recent demise of the octogenarian shirt shop owner

from natural causes it has to be said and the family's 50% off everything sale -

Be that as it may

the point is: Yes!

It is still possible

to pen a passable poem

on a cardboard insert

with a red inked pen

and a pin prick of blood

in such ordinary circumstances.

May it always be so.