John and Paul talk Matt Thomas

“Which one of these eggs is hard?”
                             a bowl of water — four eggs
“Why’ve you got a bowl of eggs on the coffee table?”    “I gave up caffeine.”
The only-fans poets selling tricks in the corner.
 
“Matt Thomas is on tonight. He’s got
              a new book coming out an’ all.”
 
Words scattered in ashtrays. Their edges seared.
 
“It’s rather comfortable in the lounge, isn’t it?”
              “Reckon we could get him in the band
               — have a super group?”
“What, four rockers and a poet? It’d be novel.”
              “I heard Dylan’s got Allen Ginsberg in his car.”
 
Black and white photographs clutter the walls
pins pressed in to stop them running away
 
“Is it beck and call or beckon-call? I’ve never really understood it.”
 
Two business men leave.
 
“He didn’t finish his lager.”
“Or his fag.”
 
The clock falls off the wall
                                           “Do you know what time it is?”
“That sort of thing doesn’t matter here.”
                                           “What do you do if you’re late?”
“Apologise.”