Last Night.
Last night
Ten thousand silent movie fans rose from their graves,
To chase the blackened corpse of Al Jolson from their hallowed ground.
Last night
Mini-tubes of Cerulean Blue paint substituted for Smarties in primary school playgrounds across the County,
Whilst correction facilities corrected homeless people's homework,
And rehab centres shared Cleopatra's needle with my youngest nieces.
Last night
Microsoft bought curtains for Windows 7 from a sweatshop on eBay,
As Coalition Forces napalmed grey haired donkeys on Skegness beaches,
All in the interest of National Security.
Last night
Wall Street crashed into a number 47 bus on Parliament Street,
Causing Stock Market Square to drop by 40%,
Whilst my pile of rejected paintings reached critical mass.
Last night
A young woman with perfect breasts
Decided to fasten an extra button on her shirt and buy her own fish and chips after all,
Obscuring my vision of lost summer memories,
Taking a moment to cry.
Last night
The couple at the next table held long conversations with their dog. In English.
Last night
An unused ticket for the Sydney Opera House fell from my second hand paperback.
Last night
The bonneted barmaid ate the supper which management provided,
Whilst Phil Spector's Wall of Sound remained silent,
And another legendary pop star actually died.
All text copyright ian g craig.
An updated version of this poem would be published in my book "46 Contemporary Poems".
