Leon

Leon props up the bar,
a sturdy bastion of consumption
I’m not sure why he drinks so much,
but fuck, he drinks a lot!

His mind is remarkable 
   in its recall
     even in his inebriation

His liver is surely less healthy
- holier than a saint
holey like a sponge;
it must be rotting

A legend of his time, 
he has two degrees
and he was a champion
- not just in his own mind either

he could join MENSA 
but their all just dimwitted snobs,
their superiority inferior.
Leon’s stories are much more interesting

he’ll recite verse by memory and then demand
"give me VB or give me nothing!"
drunk on his own brilliance
his exuberance strains to fit in -
cramped by a badly fitting shirt, shorts and 
battered old Dunlop Volleys,
framed by a shaggy beard and missing teeth
and topped by one of many caps

he recalls every cricket season with precision,
   and he is there every season
paying out the line and always getting bites