0004 Oxymoron

You know the type - the word's just perfect for him:
built like an ox, brain like a moron.
shaved head, one ear-ring, bull neck,
gold chain, tattoos,
black gym-pumped T shirt
(strange to think that thirty years ago
that would mark him a, er, Judy Garland fan..)
or football shirt on match days,
jeans, trainers
for a quick getaway between the blood and the pig-van,
and sharp eyes in an impassive face
as if one eye's always on the lookout for his mates
and the other for the other lot
so don't catch his eye, OK?

a 'football supporter';
now that's a real
oxymoron.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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