I Wish

I wish we could all bicker,

snicker at off-colour jokes,

seated round a table full

of empty bottles and dirty plates,

trading insults like zutistes

in smoking jackets,

smoking turkish cigarettes

trying not to cough,

showing off to the waitress

or the waiter, Arthur,

if you prefer.

I wish for safety in numbers,

slumbers undisturbed by

visions of Jean-Paul’s hell

which would be heaven for us,

discussing the extraordinary

as if it was everyday,

and maybe it is,

for now the everyday

is through the looking glass,

and on this side

the Red Queen rules

I wish she didn’t.