Wellington Street woes

Saturday Night,
Sunday Morning,
I am gawping at women
who should come with a warning;
battered fake eye lashes
smudged, neon coloured lips
I’d still come up sucking my thumb
on this street full of tits.
Tops too small
and layers of fake tan
no mirrors
no mates and
certainly no mam
to tell her that love
is not all about looks
and that telly without pictures
is called reading a book.
I’m old enough to be her dad
she looks and laughs and points
its sad;
maybe I’ve had too much to drink
but her teenage bravado
makes me think
“Why am I here? Why do I do this”
a chip is not a contract
it doesn’t mean I’ll get a kiss.
She asks me for a fag as well
pretends she wants to pay;
hook line and sinker
I believe the eyes
and wave her hand away.
She forgets me sooner
than the smoke leaves her lips
and she’s on to the next bloke
who’s got much bigger chips and
it’s hard to explain
to someone wearing just a belt
that I am deeper than a puddle
and my intentions heartfelt.
She could have been my future bride
if she’d only talked and put down her pint
so I hover in hope
she will notice my smile
and if the Gods are not cruel
we’ll talk for a while but I
say something maudlin about
my ex-wife and kids
and she turns to her friends
who downs the whole of her drink.
She doesn’t even say goodbye
but leaves me floundering in the crap of my life;
it’s just not fair,
it’s just not right
that my ground-hog days
have become my ground-hog nights;
still worse I turn around to find
that ten thousand eyes
watched her burn me alive.
I dismiss my chance to be witty
like George Bernard Shaw
so under my drunken breath I mumble
“ugly, stupid, whore”
and the night draws dawn
and standards get lowered
but I can only pull a wank
in a freezing cold shower;
looking at pictures
of other readers wives;
coming to conclusions
that this is my life.

I can’t help reading this poem to myself in a strange Manchester / Salford accent in tribute to a great punk poet and inspiration of mine John Cooper Clarke. Check out his poetry especially my favourite “Readers Wives” 

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

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