Neither by way of excuse nor explanation

The door of the bar

got stuck

on my way out

but I insisted

and out of blind stubbornness

nearly ripped my fourth-fret

little finger off

So, OK, I give up

trying to give up

go sit back down

order another beer

and let the blood drip

and ignore the other punters'

unconcerned curiosity

The barmaid seeks a word

some gesture of approval

of the hideous cardigan she has on

it's OK, I say

and a standby baiting bitch points out

that's hardly a compliment

but from an Englishman, I say, it is

And just to be a gentle man I add

it would be even nicer if I can have

another beer and then she smiles

and says, proudly, you see

that's a compliment indeed

and so I get another beer

and my finger continues

to bleed.