Brunch

Old friends ask me to Brunch

At half past nine

By which time they have walked the dog

And danced in a line in the Community’s hub,

As if they just can’t stop commuting

(Yoga fit and daft old fools)

Adding to the Yummy Mummies’

Chelsea Tractors’ struggles to

Get the bloody kids to school.

After careful low-fat bacon, 

Strained kefir with apricots,

In a heated fierce debate

Someone’s BP Ap might beep

And at once, as if in penance,

Coffee’s off the list, with Gin,

Someone’s stabbed with a sugar pen,

Pulse-rate armbands strap up men.

We watch levers on the screen, 

Home, still-alive, by half past ten. 

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