NaPM April 30 2014

[Keith]

Closing time

Can I have your glasses now please?
Have you no homes to go to?
I’m staring at two full pints,
I’ll probably be sick
but right now it seems worth the risk.

The cold air has been let in,
lifted my head with a silly grin.
The big lights reveal all the tacky sights
disrupted faces squint at reality
the scraping of chairs is muffled
by the hiss left over from loud music.

The zombie hoard moves towards the door,
rolling like an episode
from voyage to the bottom of the sea.
It’s then I use my one last chance,
asking sympathy
for a leg trembling romance;
not even a back of the club glance.
So on I go
drawn by a diesel engine drone
and the smell of deep fat,
cheese burger and chips
consumed to be splattered
in pavement patterns,
to be stepped in by Sunday shoes,
disgusted
on the way to their pews.

But it's all OK at three am,
I'm pissing like a horse again
and hear the rain on the roof,
proof that the streets will be healed
running like clear liquid
that forms on a scab.
Refreshed ready for their Sunday best
and my curtains drawn day of rest.