I could have been someone.
Well, so could anyone.Fairytale of New York by The Pogues
Will that realisation push you further into life
Perhaps that is the choice we need to make
Each morning when we pull our socks over our shins
Spit the acid toothpaste into the black metal ditch
Silence our troubles
Atone for our sins
Seated on a cushion
Or a park bench
You look up and catch the moon returning the sky to the sun
Both linger a little awkwardly now after the divorce.
Moon says a final bye with a forehead kiss
That lasts thirty minutes
The adolescent Sky says “alright dad, I love you too. Now go.”
Trying to hide its blush from passing clouds.
And almost just like that
Disappears into the blue.
And you are there
Still on the park bench
Or was it cushion?
Wondering what to do with these hands you’re in
Or these feet clothed in socks up to your shins.