Wednesday, 23 September 2015

A Poem | In the Wake of a Day Lived




"God bless you, darlin'," croaks through empty space
From Digges Lane as I 
Carry on with the routine;
A pilgrimage of some description.
Flinching as revolving doors threaten
to howl at my arrival
"Bionic Woman" has lost its touch,
It seems.
The lotto is unjustifiable this week,
to pay extra for two 
measly numbers.

Instead, I opt for the staples,
Avoid the ingredients that filled 
My cupboards of a time when
Heating an extra plate
Wasn't questioned.
A packet of Bisto kindly reached
By the same face, different name tag,
Sparks a discussion of 
Tonight's fine dining.

Feeling brave, the self check-out
Seems appealing now,
As I lift the groceries from the counter -
The weight of which
More tolerable
Than Before,
I decide to leave my change of
Three-twenty for some
Ordinary Joe Soap
To prize their stars on.

I mull around Stephen's Green,
Bags in hands, feet on pebbles,
Waiting on a name to find me through
Vodafone's dodgy connection.
In the absence of a
Word received,
Signals a taxi to consume
More of my coppers.

Without the scare mongering
of Home, I flick the immersion
To life;
Where I plan to let parts 
of today and
Pieces of me
Fly down the plughole
Forever.

Waiting, always waiting,
The kettles boils,
One cup. One Sugar. Fortified milk.
My phone vibrates, and answer
To find a voice residing down
the country, but it wires to a 
Similar frequency of my own.

And I forget of where
I am, of today, and all
That I'm not.

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