Another fourteen boys,
another fourteen pints
set down on another wooden table
on another busy day.

Another brood of hens,
another fairy bride,
drinking halfs and bottles
of I can’t decide,
and I’d better take it easy,
we’ll have cocktails later,
and no, I’ll get these.

There’ll be hundreds today
just like them.
Hop-licked strollers
on a big day out
that might be once in a lifetime,
but here
this is normal.

And they’re doing alright
for this time of day.
Some of them might make it all the way,
but not him,
or her,
or him.

 
We can always tell
who’s bored or slumping,
waiting for the wind to change,
a bite to eat to pick them up,
to skip a drink next time.
We can always tell
who never really wanted to be here.

Like Caligula
and Annie Oakley,
nursing their drinks,
looking around,
anywhere, at anything
except their friends.

Then she turns
to catch his eye and says,
‘You look like you’re having a right laugh.’
And he laughs.
Just a little.
Just for her.

From 'An Otley Run' published by Half Moon Books. See www.anotleyrun.com for more.