The broom song
See the workers on the corner
take a pee behind a tree
some of the boy racers are girls
walking home it s what you see.
The drunk are blowing chunks
the pissed just want to get laid
surrounded by Friday night bravery
none of these punters will be saved.
Sirens bounce around the streets
of the rough and mild
shift workers catch the spectacle
and the bar staff feign a smile.
Over the limit take the back roads
apartment tower lights are on
gangs and groups and fashion types
party till the coming dawn.
Skateboarders after midnight
wake the regular 9 to 5
with all these lights the sky is less
down the streets of the flash and rented dives.
The rest homes tick like clockwork
the cops pull up the old cars
here the city shines like sequined sex
I can hear the city roar from this far.
And I will sit here on your doorstep with my pen,
I will scratch away as I shelter from the rain.
In these headless days of reckless and restriction,
Friday nights the same whatever town your in.
Return to poetry page...