They sat in the fish shop, two big men

one leaning in, the other back

as on haunches

wolves quite lean snuffling the air

taking up the unwelcome slack

of silence, talking of this and that.

Neither aware of my casual glances that

caught them on the prowl

cheek to jowl, back from the scuttling plains of

rubbish bins, back yards of other lives

unsuspecting wives.

"She should have come to me first," one said

"you would have put her right," the other.

Amongst their morsels the remains of spent trust

carcases of expectation discarded in the scramble

for the quick and easy buck.

silver chest hair shone in the restaurant lights;

the smell of easy money and aftershave

clotted as I sunk my fork into the pulpy fish.