Poetry by Paul Tanner

           David Prasad CC



tequila lube

he lived in a flat
except it wasn’t a flat
it was the pink eye of the second to last god
it was an alien’s toilet.
it was mid-January 
except it wasn’t
it was the end of existence 
it was your stepdad’s funeral. 
he had a fat landlady 
except she wasn’t a fat landlady
she was the long thin wisdom tooth
of that pink-eyed god.
he had furniture 
but it was farts made solid and angular 
he had the dead crouching in various positions.   
it was cold
it was aflame with cold.
and it was Sunday
it was all the days 
even the ones without names yet
and he was late for work
except he didn’t have a job
so it was all alright. 

he coughed up into a dead man wardrobe  
and the pink eye flat closed in on him 
with a cowardly blink:
he’d won the blinking contest.

yup. in death he lived as in life he died
or some shit. ​

​

Tanner congealed in Liverpool tomorrow. He’s been earning minimum wage, and writing about it, for too long. His novel ‘Jobseeker’ is doing alright on Amazon. He was shortlisted for the Erbacce 2020 Poetry Prize. His latest collection ‘Shop Talk: Poems for Shop Workers’ is published by Penniless Press. His star sign is Libido. Hobbies include pillage, cribbage and the occasional spillage.

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