On the Spot in TCR
Broadcasted a sallow man,
a stubbled jaunty Madness throwback
in his Hello-Squire Suggsy hat
karaokeeing Sam Cooke’s vision
to a grandiose backtrack.
Squat and forward, mic to sternum,
he affects this cock-a-snook
disturb-you-guvnor shtick whilst
I took in his tremulous coo
amplified like the young boy’s voice
will resound over a droning shruti box
on a Bombay street corner.
Everyone walked past oblivious.
But it hit my gut and cut through my defence.
How removed I’d been;
how I'd thought it was normal and fine
to be cast-iron miserable and immured,
partly taking my cue from others.
I felt the sadness in the gap.
All this time I could have understood
what a wonderful world this is.