old hat lifeMature

I say we ditch this old-hat life
of scrimping and barely getting by
and living as if we’ll be twenty-something
until we die.  Hop a barge and flee somewhere
with more culture to get lost in,
somewhere with an accent we can adopt
to amuse our friends back home.
When we’re too broke to buy a few pints
I’ll dive into the river and let the water take me,
let it soak me to the bone and swallow me up,
and I’ll hold my breath until I sink to the bottom.
When you drag me out you can take me
to the humane society for drowned persons
and they’ll give us a few coins for our ale
and we’ll stay up late with bad jokes
and a collection of memories to amuse us 
when we stop being queerplunging twenty-somethings.

The End

8 comments about this poem Feed