In this irregular boozer
of recognisable regular
swillers chat bats ‘bove
those froth-lined pours
[‘bout dogs & kids & all
that left-at-home stuff]-
I’m young among them
& their disposable cash
from auld times – it will
not do me well – sleep’s
switch will flick as ale’s
heavy complaints wake
me through my night &
one bed will not suffice
[not with only one in it]