Isolation soon became him.
Doors wide shut.
forced out and apart on rare occasion to quench his drink thirst.
Camouflaged trench and drink thirst spiked,
he approached the iconic outback pub.
Rough as guts, full of hard-looking characters with gold for hearts…
salt-of-the-earth kind of people.
He took to his usual seat location.
Five-second immediacy to the bar and gents,
yet hidden from full view.
Fear-free, feeling free,
it was the usual undisturbed ritual… until it wasn’t.
In she walked,
a peroxide blonde with layered tops and crotchet braids,
taking the seat next to his.
Invitation not required.
In disturbing head-loud silence, he watched,
unsure of how to confront the unwelcome disturbance to ritual.
She downed drink after drink,
legs apart like they’d never met.
Lips and cigarettes bonded like hormone-raging lovers.
In the age, old time he recalled,
women cooked like their mothers
now they drank like their fathers.
Many minutes and seven drinks in,
his thirst was fully quenched.
Exiting the pub, he carried with him in thought the nameless peroxide blonde with layered tops and crotchet braids.
New thirst acquired.
It was lady thirst.