Sport 6: Autumn 1991
Blue Hills 24
Half an hour down a straight road
from the prison farm, Boof Morgan sings Country
to a synthesiser, a drum machine
and a dozen desultory lovers of genre.
A man and a woman mime each number
while the barman lives by reflex
metres from where the boats tie up.
Thickset men with beards and cowboy hats
gather elsewhere under the bar TV.
They are no friends to this music
—wear its apparel with no concern
for a pickup draped with the national flag
—departed next day from this fine drizzle
across a map of blue skies and faithless love.