Friends. Poem by Neil Gray

I fell into my cups like Peter O'Toole
and decided it would be
prudent of me to leave
before I offended anyone else.

Mind you,
my lack of central gravity
was proving to pose a problem.

While I lay there
sprawled blindly across
a packed table,
trying my hardest to convince myself
that an upright position was more preferable,
I could vaugely hear
the sound of a raised voice
bouncing around
my comatose mind.

'God damn you,
you useless fucking bastard,
you SWORE to me you wouldn't get into
this state around my friends.
All I wanted was a quiet night out,
but you meet up with HIM
and off you go,
drunk again.
well, if he means that much to you
then HE can drag you home.....'

When I awoke the next morning
she was gone,
all of her possesion's
disappeared as if
she'd never exsisted.

I picked up the phone
and called S
too thank him for dragging me home:

'Shit bro'...don't matter...
you'd have done the same for me.'

We talked a little while longer
and arranged to meet at two
and as I poured myself a cold one,
to wash away the remanents
of last nights scum,
I realised that a true friend
is someone you'd step out
in front of a bus for
but a lover,

well,

that's someone you'd
volunteer to take your
place.