He rolls around his king-sized bed in distress.
He sits bolt upright and sharply
To face his alcohol cabinet.
Ronnie lights a cigarette, puffs, then chugs.
As the last drop of drink rushes past
His tongue, he stumbles towards the large en-suite with the
No shower gel.
Just stands and sings.
Gets out, drips off, then ruffles his hair.
Wardrobe doors hangs
Clothing of a much different quality.
Gets dressed, grabs a
And rolls on outside.
Goes back, dresses that too,
Places it in the pram and leaves once more.
Once he reaches the
High, wide gate,
Ronnie looks around.
In centre of town, he
Visits the closest off-license
To purchase an eight-pack of
Drinks and drinks,
Then burps, proudly,
In whichever crowded
Space he finds.
He loiters at bus stations,
Pushes him pram round for the
World to see and lies on greens
For hours on end just waiting
The strawberry sunset signifies the
End of the day. Ronnie heads home.
Straight to the alcohol cabinet. This time,
Then collapses on the bed.
Now the clothes are ripped off
Then burnt and chucked out into the
Once again, Ronnie wakes up.
Whiskey mixed with vodka.
This time, it’s a left out the gate, but
Ronnie still heads towards town.
Then to the field
That overlooks the city. Lies down,
Gets up to drink, then lies back down.
Walks back, buys more ‘Special Brew’,
Then to the bus station to burp
When more unsuspecting passers-by appear.
Ronnie heads back home,
Again, a different route is taken,
But straight to the alcohol cabinet,
And collapses on the bed.
However, Ronnie doesn’t wake up today.
He is happy.