A miscellany of perhaps fifty
loosely gathered in a small arched
subterranean cavern
beneath the streets of Georgian Bath

Surging alternating waves
of chatter and laughter are
randomly borne
on intoxication's breeze,
merging with the smudgy
paintwork on the walls
to produce the comforting aura
of a psychedelic sixties
lava lamp

The singer songwriter plays
a pulsing rhythmic tune
on his electric acoustic guitar,
penetrating the atmosphere
with soulful artistic determination:
"I love you
like a melody
that's running through my head..."

He closes his eyes and brushes
the microphone with his lips,
ignoring the teenage underage drinkers
making a play for his mates
in the front row

These blokes work hard to keep
their arms and hands away from
anything that might be construe d
as welcome or responsibility,
hugging instead their beer
close to their chest

Two older girls
blankly silent
and ranged along
the side seating
look on with
all the rapt attention
of watching paint dry

The languorous youth
lurking in shadow
leans against a pillar.
Like a musing Benedictine
he is shrouded deep
in his hoody and
is maybe considering
his next deal

Bar manager stands
arms folded at the back
and does a quick head count
- profit or loss tonight?

A beautiful acoustic riff
from the associate musician
on stage
breaks in like an
ascendant lark on the wings
of spring;
has his wife remembered
to record The Big Match
on Channel 3?

* * * *

As for me, all I'm thinking is:
"I love you
like a melody
that's running through my head"...

I'm glad someone
is concentrating;
he deserves it