All too real

I finish putting edible items in to a pan
to look down at my hands and see dried blood
that is, until now, a stranger to me.
It is not worth questioning these things
for too long
so I pour a large glass of milk
and swallow some vitamins.
It is 7pm, and despite my drinking
I must start work in three hours.

Today, I have sat in the sun
in the company of a man
who mocks every young man
who walks through the doors.
A real life fighter with a taste for cocaine,
but he sits easily with me
and we sip at ales amongst cigarette smoke.

The tiresome lot,
in their fancy dress
came in shouting
about pub golf
and other things that left us wincing.
Their invincibility would be short lived,
but their time among us would not.

I sank another three, knowing all too well
how hard it is to sober up on demand.
When I eventually left
I staggered through the heat
stopping to smile blindly
at a newbie to the drinking game;
beaten by the heat
as the crowd gathered round him
unconscious and hoping
that the strangers inside the ambulance
would bring him back.

Then I was in the supermarket,
watching the kids carrying their crates
of mass produced lager
to the checkouts
where they would be asked to produce their passports
so that their Saturday nights could begin.

I stumbled out of there with toilet roll
and other household necessities
thinking about working from 10pm
until the sun showed it face.
I am still thinking about it now
amongst other things
like how pathetic it all is.