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A drink in bar

Updated on December 20, 2007

It was a hot evening and into the long,narrow bar walked a dove with a broken wing.It walked the length of the bar to where beer crates were stacked seeking shelter in dark recesses. I told the barman and together we walked over and he picked up the bird, there were other drinkers but no one seemed to have noticed the drama, he put the bird on a ledge outside and said.It has not got a fucking chance at all and back in we went to continue the serious business of drinking. The thought of the bird did not leave me so after a few more drinks I went outside to have a look and found two healthy doves pushing the crippled one off the ledge,they succeeded and the invalid fell to the ground.I picked it up and it died in my hands.i Buried it in a waste bin full of fag packs and greasy chippy paper and went into the bar for another drink. In this drama of death, which no one will ever remember, I did feel as if I had died a bit inside of me but have done something worthwhile.


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