I Woke Up To Find I Was A Wanker.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Scrubbing my growth and what's left of my hair

I look at these few things and swear

That my next love will be my last

The woman whom I will drag into childless old age

The two of us wired on coffee and inner city chic

So existential we don't even need to create

Because that would just be coarse and rude

I will sport a beard, she thick rimmed glasses

Drink only espressos and avoid lattes

Go to all the gallery openings

And get slanted haircuts and hang out

With the cool young things

Like social vampires feeding

Bleeding these people of their ideas

Necessary - having none of our own

Then the wine hits and no one gives a shit

So we disperse to pubs and bitch

About the sub-standard nature of the show

How the vision wasn't true

How the work was unresolved

Then Fergus will join the fray

Not content with calling everyone a cunt

As he does after his seventh pint

But Twinkle Toes will pull him away

So things die down

Back to an acceptable level of blah

And I will signal to you across a room

With a slight tilt of the head

That this is all bullshit

And its time to go home

To our French Boxer Roxy

To our comfortable self-satisfaction

Perhaps even to bed.