Christopher Hanson

Quiet Beer At Johnno’s on a Sunday

It’s six p.m. The body clock says “beer”,
as Johnno starts the barbeque. I phone
in sick for Monday (’flu — I'd best stay clear
of others, Boss...). That pay-rise safely blown,
I sit outside and crack another can.
But Johnno’s quiet. I ask about his wife
and when’s she home? (I swear, one day I’ll ban
myself from talking.) “Oh, there's been some strife —
been coming for a while. She took young Grace…”
He doesn’t cry or swear, but quietly sinks
the knife into a steak. I watch his face,
but John just smiles: “Tonight, we’ll have some drinks
and watch the cricket.” Getting to my feet,
I bite my lip and help him cook the meat.