More Street Poetry

 

It’s Friday Night Again 

Michael Arnold 

 

So… You’re two in the morning drunk.

Nowhere to go,

Clubs closing,

Taxi queues forming,

Fights breaking out,

It’s Friday again. 

 

A guy walks up

Asks to lend a fiver.

That’s Bristolian

For borrow a fiver.

If I had a fucking fiver

I wouldn’t be sat

On this bench

Musing about a bed,

Anyone’s bed.

He mumbles something

And tries his luck elsewhere;

I won’t tell him

He’ll probably get chinned

Before the night is out.

 

A young girl screams so loud

It’s like in my ear.

Another girl is trying

To get her to the taxi queue

But she won’t have any of it

She wants to dance.

Now this girl falls over.

Somehow she manages

To do it in slow motion-

I think.

She’s all skirt and blonde hair

Prostrate on the floor.

I catch a glimpse of her pants.

 

The  young guy next to me

Is trying to take a photo

On his mobile phone.

I chuckle and weird thoughts

Enter my head,

Which I just as quickly dismiss 

As dreams from the past.

 

Police sirens kick off

Somewhere near

And a fight breaks out

Between two young men.

A couple of girls start screaming

And it all fizzles out as quick

As it started.

 

My head is fuzzy with booze.

But suddenly I remember

I have a bed, I have a room.

And in my room under the sink

Is a full bottle of Chianti….

Now I can go home.

 

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