Down the Pan





 

 On a crystal cold December night
 Moonbright with ice in the air
 The doctor’s car pulled up outside
 Bringing modern medical care
 

 Ascending hard stairs in the bright lit lobby
 He quickly finds your door
 Which waiting behind in your jim-jams you open
 Bring a smile, and cold air through your door
 

 “We better go to the bedroom” you say
 “The rest of the place is a mess”
 “It’s the pains that wake me in the morning doc
 I just cannot get any rest”
 

 “You better lie on the bed “ he says
 “Rest your head on the pillow, just here”
 Now what about your waterworks?
 Does it hurt when I press there?”
 

 He sends you to the lav for a sample, which
 Taking its time to arrive
 Gives him a moment to sit and observe the signs
 Of a life and its gradual demise
 

 Suitcases, concave on top of the cupboard
 Thick-filmed with dust the fan
 Its face to the wall it won’t turn anymore
 And the tinkling goes on in the pan
 

 And to the sound of your piss, the doctor sits
 And wonders about your life
 Was there a girl or a child or a man or a wife? 
 Did you devote yourself to Christ?
 

 Did you spend your night on the common in secret 
 In lustful and shame filled embrace
 Did you fight your way to the top of the ladder and suffer
 Indignity, a fall from grace
 

 Did you holiday in Lanzarote? 
 Digging holes in the sand with your son?
 Did you set off sprightly for runs every morning?
 Or build tiny models for fun?
 

 Did you see this life coming? Did you see the dust settling?
 When you stowed your cases away?
 And packed up the shirts and the ties and the shoes 
 Closed your door at the end of the day
 

 “Is that enough doc?” You pass me your sample
 Rose “That will do”with a frown
 “How is it here?” he asks and fixes your eye
 You look away, and then look down
 

 “Well, there’s Jim at the end of the corridor
 And the lady in the flat below
 But somedays I just don’t bump into them
 They all have somewhere to go
 

 “And…”your mind drifts elsewhere for a moment
 I wonder what you see there
 Then you turn to me and back in the room again ask
 “What’s the verdict doc? What d’you see there?”
 

 You show me to the door, i’m still cold to the bone
 I descend the stone steps to my car
 Pull away into darkness and moonlight and ice
 But my thoughts don’t travel so far
 

 From you, the encounter the stink of your life
 The bloody piss and the dust and decay
 I pull up outside the place I call home
 And close my door at the end of the day 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: