Worlds apart

The connection is there, whether I dig for it or not

Those years spent in factories, pubs and clubs,
With family,
Of punching my way through to daylight

It’s in the rising intonation, crescendo of indignation
The famine of morality,
The sneering rejection of humility

The deflection of weaknesses and failures
Onto anyone who isn’t in the room

All of this good natured, to a point
The invitation to conspire:
“You’re one of us”

I’m not

The world that you inhabit isn’t mine

Not now

Not for a very long time