The gold tooth is still mocking me

I pull out my purse and take out two coins,

One silver, one bronze, put them on the counter.

The Bar Man looks straight through me.
“It’s going to cost you more than that, friend.”

I pull out a gun. Aim at his heart.
The band strikes up a rolling rhythm.
He turns away to serve another customer
As I have the bullet trained on him
At the gold tooth that’s still mocking me.

 He serves the drinks and comes back.

 “How much then?” I ask.

“Look!” he says “Read my thoughts!”

I read his heart and see a garden in a council estate.
He stands with watch in hand, bird feed in the other,
Watching the clouds for a glimpse.

Then a woman with red hair, misty strange,
Otherworldly, could be dead. She haunts him still.

 I put down gold. “Is that OK?”

Written for share a poem at St Ethelwolds.

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