Day 10 - Shells

Pressure in the concavity from the thumb
and the monkey nut splits
with a puff of dust. I paw
it in half and neck the twin kidney-shapes
like chewable vitamin supplements.
Unsalted, unsugared, but sweet and dirty
for their being asked for,
rather than won, after their owners,
smack-happy with a glassful of cash
(hooray, pub quiz rollover!)
forgot their other prize:
the monkey nuts whose numbers
they had to guess to be in with the chance
that did them a treat.

185
(the nearest guess was 154)
185 monkey nuts for me,
on the tube from Vauxhall.
A crack like splintering bone,
the dust-whiff, like I've blown the age
off an old book, and liberated contents
emptied, paper skins sticking in my throat.

If you've been wondering,
this is how I 'earn' everything.
The kids with the big grins, bows and arrows,
they get the major haul.
People find them adorable,
when they squeal, "Put 'em up!"
But I get the scraps that clatter
out of their swag-bags,
as they make their getaway,
all the more pleasurable, because there was I,
kicking my feet, not expecting
a damned penny.