Blame It On The Booze. Poem by Neil Gray

'Where am I going' I asked
'And why the hell
am I going there? '

'You're coming
clubbing' she replied
'Because you never
do'

I live in
Weston-Super-Mare

not

Las Vegas.

There's no
Viva
here.

It's the same
old same
old day in
and day out.

The same
bars,
the same
clubs,

the same faceless
people looking
for
justification.

And I think,
as I roll away
the years,
roll away the hangovers
and switch
to just one
channel,

that God
must have

a
wicked
sense
of
humour.