Last Orders

Waiting for things, that’s us,
from the day we’re born
till the day we pop our clogs;

for buses, for trains –
for the kettle to boil
or the paint to dry.
For the lift going up
or the lift going down;
for the soufflé to rise.

Speaking for myself –
right this second
I’ m waiting for the owner
of this god-forsaken dive
to call time...

You get the drift; permit
so-called friends and family
to ‘get on with their lives’, as
behind their hands
I’ve heard them whisper.

Take the wife; she
can’t wait to cash in
on the insurance...
not to mention
that bit on the side
she’s screwing
when the occasion arises.

And my brother,
the conniving old sod,
is chaffing at the bit
to test-drive
my Model ‘T’ Ford.
Just thinking about it
brings tears to my eyes.

That’s not to say
I ain’t shit-scared of dying...
although, as it so turns out,
nothing to stay here for...
not anymore.

“Hey – you over there!
Make mine a pint...
and a whisky-chaser. Oh,
and one more for the road,
if you’d be so kind.”