He looks at me with disgust my company and presence
an annoyance to his organised fun.
Oi oi football talk, tits and crotch thrusts… Slaps on the back and Misogynistic chat
I don’t join in the masturbation of their masculinity
Arsenal n all that Bruv
Alright love !
Phwoar they roar
Eyebrows arch and eyes dagger the uncomfortable nature of the pack mentality … As I fail to engage in festivities.
He identifies me
The weakest – I won’t survive
Alcohol slips through lips stretched across glass pints
They perform their gender under the dank pub lights
Dry rugged hands wipe the mouths and slaps tables.
An uncomfortable rope tightens around my throat
I’m on the periphery of their score board, lowest rank in their social order.
What Ya having?
Beers? I’ll have a MALIBU and coke.
He orders and delivers me on one…
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