Bill McKinstry and
that is his name was
for a time my friend,
and colleague.
Tall, blonde and blue eyed,
A little rotund, some
Called him Billy Bunter behind
His back, a few to his face.
I guess his ex-merchant seaman
Skin was thick enough…
Most of the time.
He used to say to me,
“always remember
I am a lover not a fighter”
One night we were called
To a fast food bar,
There was a riot,
Everyone fighting inside and out
Chairs, tables, bodies,
Flying, careering crashing.
He donned his forage cap
Took a deep breath
Casually dandered in,
Up to the counter
Behind which the manager
And staff cowered and said,
“Well, what appears
to be the trouble?” He was
in that moment my hero.
A few short years later,
His thick skin wearing thin,
He and a bottle of vodka,
Fell asleep on the sofa
At his mother’s house,
And he never woke up.
I am reminded of my friend’s words,
That…..
He was a lover not a fighter.