Poem: Sold Out
A poem about the ‘state’ of things.
He comes in, the lights are down. It’s packed. He goes, “do you think they’ve oversold it”. He’s not talking to me but I assume he’s talking about the country, the government’s self-belief, the idea of investment in minerals. So I say “have they what?” And then add, “Last one out leave some money so someone can leave a light on, right?” But by then he’d left, shouting over his shoulder, “I’m talking about this gig you queer cunt; this show you fucking idiot!” I try to tell him that they can’t oversell something that has a capacity. Then realise that’s what the government has done. And that’s why we are all at each other’s throats while trying to enjoy our last chunk of change. That’s what they want from us. If not our vote, our apathy.
