Читать книгу Mutton Rolls - Arji Manuelpillai - Страница 9

It’s 4am in a balmy Greek heat

four brown corduroy-coloured boys

are failing to get laid

in the ‘getting laid’ capital of Greece

they suck tulip-topped spliffs

sip the backwash of cheap vodka

talk cool (as brown boys do)

of not being bothered

their white friends, ‘fucking ‘ave it’ mottos

are banging bedheads, curling tongues

sprinkling raindrops on necklines

but brown boys are not bothered

they have spent many nights

clumped in clubs, next to girls

who call them reliable and sweet

who they lead like helpful theatre ushers