I was with a couple of friends this weekend and we were laughing at a photo taken on the 31st December 2015 that subsequently went viral. It depicts Manchester at New Year and was described as a ‘beautiful painting’ on twitter by the BBC’s Roland Hughes. When I first saw it, it reminded me of Bruegel and his depictions of humanity in all its messy glory. The slightly tongue-in-cheek article described the man in blue as ‘reclining on the bitumen’ which we all found extremely comical. As is sometimes my way, I decided to use the line to write a poem based on the picture. I guess I ought to credit Michael Safi from the Guardian for his wry description and, of course, Joel Goodman for the photo.                                            

In my addled mind I was laying on a palanquin
Weary limbs adrift on the roily grey
A right royal slut reclining with legs akimbo
Flashing unashamed a sumptuous pale belly –
but then I glimpsed you.

Polyphemus; a hideous void of an eye
Fixated on my blue butterball frame.
I struck a coquettish pose for you,
for you, it was all for you
my telltale glassy sneak.

Nauseating lurid yellow flowers
Wavered in the corner of my eye
Joined in cacophony by a wilting tulip
All of them bent double over a writhing mass
Of dung heap brown wrestling quick to the gutter.

In this Roman arena of curious bystanders
It was in a half daze that I realised
I was reclining on the bitumen,
on undulating cushions of lumps of hard gum
spat rebelliously from pink fleshy tongues.

So, like the proverbial moth to a flame
I extended an arm and like a sentient squid
Wrapped my fingers around a glass full of promises
To shake hands with Old Bacchus,
to shake off your reproach.