your time is tied between
childcare and intoxication.
It becomes more kids, more coke,
broken bottles on chip shop steps.
Before you vote blue, to keep out
the real threat to community,
in front of the Prince Albert,
crown and sceptre, slurring
philosophy into ignorance.
At the port
you swipe on and secure your float,
check the load, the morning weather.
Two’s a fag with that one stewardess,
watch her smoke-wash away the cliffs
and castle lights no longer of attraction,
your hand a tourist in hers.
At least while you’re on the channel.
‘Are you on all day?’… ‘Yeah me too.’
‘I can’t wait to get back to Dover.’