Cob was rounded like a leather ball,
sheer muscle,
he just liked to drink,
did a one-off armed bank robbery
and never got caught,
can't go wrong
if you just stop at one, he said.

He just liked to drink,
even at Scotch College,
he just liked to drink.
VB was his favourite.
He headed down to the usual haunt,
St Kilda, Prince of Wales Hotel
where you drink, and to the Espy,
the bay windows flooded with people
who just liked to drink,
and think grunge music banging in their drinks.

Cob maintained restraint
when it came to doing
armed robbery,
can't go wrong if you just stop at one, he said.

His presence created room,
made it easy
to stand beside him
without the aggravation
of being knocked against
by other blokes, and to listen to the music
and confidently have a drink.

Cob could see two plainclothes cops.
Mario was not the type
to be jaunting to places like this, even
if he and his mate were at the Espy,
because they also liked to drink.

Mario had a rectangular frame
with a head shaped like a TV,
his black hair was cut squarely at the back,
and his horizontal eyebrow,
which had probably joined up
around the time he sprouted pubic hair,
formed a panel
below his cropped fringe;
he was so square you
got the impression that that's the thing
he was most proud of.

'They're cops,' a pimp remarked to Cob,
smiling but not with his eyes,
his neck tattooed with hearts and stars.
'Is that right,' Cob replied, reaching for his drink.

Cob just liked to talk
Essendon Football Club & astrology,
and he just liked to drink

and listen to the sound of a shotgun
banging like music in his drinks.

'Can't go wrong if you just stop at one,' he said.