Poem; Fine Wine

I need time for fine wine

Actually, it’s pretty cheap

Long as is doesn’t taste like vinegar, I’m good

And I refuse guilt

On a Friday, having survived

Because that’s what life is

A bloody fight and you know it

Like I know it

And we laugh about it and mostly

We swear fucking loads about it

And that makes us laugh more

Reveals the tension, the underlying strung out, pain and regret and

Anger

Licking lips, shaking heads, shaking it all away, we say

All you can do is laugh

All you can do is fuck it

Because life is short!

Fine wine, at the right time

Is never, ever enough

It lifts you up, lifts you out

The glass in hand, the bubbles glistening

The tall thin stem

The fragility of glass, like human pain

Human potential and blood

Your mouth rejects then consumes it

Your body likes it, your mind craves it

Music gets louder, means more

Touches you, nodding

You are gloriously amplified

Even, alone, typing, thinking, feeling, smiling

Taking lost selfies

You are smiling, with your fine wine

Your reward, your reward for the fight

And what does it mean

Except, anything can happen, anything will

Probably, you will roll into bed and sleep with

A smile on your face

But you don’t know that for sure when you start the fine wine

You feel the possibilities then

Of words unspoken, of laughter, light, danger

It’s all a ball of reckless desire and needing to be seen

It propels and laughs slyly

Trips many a fine human up

Ties them in knots

But not you

You know, fine wine, cheap wine

But only on a Friday

It is a caged beast, after all

Eyes On Friday

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I said the same thing last week. Thank God it’s Friday. Can’t wait til it’s Friday. I said it last week; it’s been one of those weeks! That was because everything was broken. The oven, the washing machine, the dog. I wanted Friday and a glass of wine.

I’ve been saying it again this week. It’s been one of those weeks I am glad to see the back of. I will be glad when this week is over. Roll on Friday!

Poorly baby, poorly dog, doctor’s appointments, vets appointments. Falling behind in everything I try to do. Scrabbling for time. Existing in exhaustion. Forgotten bills. Forgotten P.E kits. Not enough time for anything.

But it will all be all right once Friday comes. We all do it don’t we? Keep our eyes on Friday, keep it in our sights. We veer around the obstacles, we duck and dive and dodge the shit, we frown, we squint, we don’t want to lose sight of it. Oh Friday, there you are.

When it’s Friday, then you’ve made it. You’ve survived. You’re still alive for one thing. You’re in one piece for another. You didn’t kill anyone. Or yourself. You didn’t lose the plot, not completely. You didn’t lose a child or your mind. Not quite. You close your eyes and the relief is all yours.

Just like everyone else around you, with their shitty jobs and traffic jams. From Monday morning to Friday afternoon, hamsters on the treadmill, spinning, never winning. Running to keep the wheel going. Running to pay the bills, buy the food, pay the rent, buy the shoes, drink the wine.

All grim faced on a Monday morning. Clear the frost from the windscreen. CD player won’t work so you’re forced to listen to Radio 4, and all that disaster and human misery, one nightmare after the other. And look at all the other pale faces hunched up over steering wheels. They are all thinking about Friday.

Why do we do it? Wish the week away…When we know we shouldn’t? When we know there isn’t really much time? That sometimes life feels incredibly long, when you are crawling behind the line of cars, when your calf muscles clench and spasm in second gear and you look in the mirror and see you haven’t even found the time to wipe the crust from your eyes.

It feels long, but we know it isn’t. Just shit things like traffic jams make you think it is. You long for Friday because it means you can breathe again. All week it is like holding your breath while you tread water. You are drowning. Almost. Come Friday you can finally take that breath. Gasp for air. Because you don’t need to make the lunch boxes and you don’t need to set the alarm, and you don’t need to think about tomorrow.

Oh the lovely glory of  Friday night…in or out…it doesn’t matter. Everyone is happy. It’s arrived, it’s here, we did it, now breathe!

That’s what you see on everyone’s faces. That’s how they all feel. And how sad, really. To always be wishing the days away. To hate Monday and feel impatient with Tuesday, to feel excited on Wednesday and curse Thursday for dragging. How silly really. Friday. Just a day like any other. Wish the week away and then try to hold on too tight to one day, one night. Before it all starts again.