Bank holiday weekends are good inventions.

The Black Clock Arms

IV.

Babs knows she's only there as the inevitable
namesake and revels in the attention lavished

on her by the rough old queens: it's all natural,
duckie! ringing sharp through the karaoke notes

night after night. She flashes her puce nails and works
there on the basis that she only pulls pints. She enjoys

the power she has in the hour before opening,
and exerts it mostly over Karen. The mop

slopping is only pleasing when it's outside and she has time
and pride to herself to shine the plastic pulling handles.

She is wary of newcomers, who see through the rouge
with a clarity not befitting the dim strip-lighting; prefers instead

the company of the regular strangers, who don't even see her face
any more, but who never fail to compliment her immaculate nails.