a true tale?

on the A58 in Rippendon
on the way to Rochdale
there used to be a pub
I once went in because
once was enough. everything
stopped as I entered the pub,
drinks froze mid pour, pool
balls stuck their legs out
to stop, darts stopped
mid-flight to sharpen
their tips, the drinkers
all stopped breathing
their breath turning
to fog masking their
faces. even the toilet
door stopped mid-swing
undecided which way to
go and all because a
stranger had dared to
come in their pub. in
the blink of an eye
everything returned to
normal as I drank the
pint I hadn’t ordered
and got out of there
as quickly as i could
and back to the ice
cold reality of life

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