The Upstairs Canteen

It’s noisy; sometimes you have to shout
To tell your friends who’s going out with who

The walls are a sort of apricot colour
With white highlights on the wooden mouldings
The chairs are all the same uniform style
Dark blue seat, blue legs
Sometimes a red one, white framed
Sneaks its way here, upstairs

Often, one can find plates, bowls
Of abandoned food, empty cans, wrappers
A couple of entrepreneurs have stuck
Caramel chocolates to the low, ribbed beams
Once there was a Dairylea carton

Everyday, break, lunch, frees
People, friends, play cards
Chase the Ace, the more brutal Bullshit
Or Fuck a Fish
Others just sit and talk, shriek, giggle, laugh
We have been told to keep the noise down before now

The smell from the kitchens wafts up periodically
Chips, burgers, beans, sausages, curry on Fridays
Someone screams snap, a can clanks onto
The speckled table top

The five minute warning bell goes at 1:50
And slowly but surely, only litter and ghosts remain