Rock Song
(for Alan Wass)
He’s got a great big crack in the screen of his phone.
He’s got a six-string grin and a council home.
He crashed through glass
into my mind.
He sank a pint and a shot
and a shot and a pint.
Feathered
booted
wearing a hat.
Don’t give a fuck.
Don’t give a fuck.
The lights went down
and the girls lined up
he loves his Liza
so he don’t give a fuck.
Published by Ben Preston
Ben Preston is a poet washed up in London’s Somers Town. He’s worked as a bartender, factory operative, diamond controller, dabbled in philosophy and dropped out of everything. He’s starting again. He’s using the skills he’s developed in creative writing to forge a new life and a new identity.
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Ben Preston 