I’ve been doing just fine drifting;
home to work to bars to home,
wages to pints to a few new clothes.
I’ve rolled from beds to pubs,
feasting on the morning’s remorse,
dancing pounds down to a final pence.
In the corner of clubs I’ve gassed
the world to my rights with kids
little more than half my years;
Bass lines and strobe lights
pushing back the barriers of age
as we all stomped in unity.
For the most part, nobody feels old
surrounded by cherished peers
coasting along out of our minds.
But lately I’m hearing slang,
seeing looks and watching styles
I can’t fathom and realising;
That amongst the drinks and meals,
overdrafts, bills, thrills and getaways
time passes as much as you pass out.
My God, there’s little better
than triumphant 6am group hugs
but it’s getting tough on the bones.
Monthly statements show little
beyond the lines after lines
of the same honks and haunts.
And after a year pondering change
it’s arrived, confusing me shy;
the familiar pinning down a big leap.
Resisting routine lifestyles
I’ve scrolled address books for allies
to chase down the past with wine;
The roll call slimming every time,
weathered by parenthood, marriages
and friends dissolved into couples.
Convenient bonds become appointments;
bi-monthly fixtures of faint retention
diluted by vulgar life status brags.
Suddenly come your own stacks of forms,
inking out textbook progressions;
a parade of crosses in squares.
Thumbing through endless paper
I feel conned that all the hard work
was just for the right to more debt.
They never teach you at school
to search for the cheapest rates
and I can’t get my head around tax.
Starring down a Biro at eternity,
you ponder if this is it now,
inhale then scribble away any doubt.
Idyllic visions of homely bliss
become clouded by the passing hazes
of a hope to stay free and untied;
To drink another fridge of beer,
weep over ruined new trainers
and burn yet more late night pizza.
The last weeks before the big move
see nights making the most of drink
and mornings longing to give it up.
A kitchen counter of dirty plates
or reflections of stubbly, double chins
suggest it’s finally time.
Telephone holding music and paper cuts
organise pipelines of utility
to new lots of freer routine.
Underwear parades, guilt free,
bookend the big plunge,
suddenly not such a bad idea.
To hammer nails in walls,
choose skirting board sizes
and cushions is to feel grown.
Yesterday’s limited edition,
suede, high-top clydes
become today’s table and chairs.
The ice dispensing fridge freezer
might not be a club’s subwoofer
but I’ll hug it all the same.
Kettle and toaster combos
welcome me home from work,
outlining a return on the chore.
