He's not mean or tight
like people say;
he lent me a hundred
a month ago.
We met in a bar
beside the docks,
he said he was off
for a week in the Dam.
The wife was sick
and me out of work,
the kiddy starting school.
Fuck your pride, he said,
and feed your bairn.
Five clean twenties
fresh from the bank -
he squeezed my hand
so hard it hurt.
His suit was blue,
he wore a white shirt,
he only carried
a single bag.
Five clean twenties,
I couldn't say no.
He'd have broken my hand
if I had.