Paddy paast the bottle

Paddy passt the bottle
and Gus arrived with three more-
Frank looked in, a little dope passed around,
one of many days ago, I passed out.

Yesterday I lay down several hours
in a darkened room, exhausted, rose
unrefreshed. Them long dopey days
seemed fine at the time
but could be proven cumulative.

Weakened me maybe, and everybody
wants an heroic death
but sheer tiredness
and a sliver of pain that moves
down one side of my forehead
on a dull morning in someone else's house
started a long way back
in the flickering fading light of
my last lost decade
and not to my honour, me boys.

written early 1981

© John Close