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Poetry Magnum Opus

the garden centre


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a maze of kendo walking sticks

and corpulent figures

in electronic dodgem cars


a secret grey topped army

of sharp elbows tongues

and eyes that usurp all the bargains


a slavish patronizing at the tills

and in the cut price restaurant--

the savage amusement of old age

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Very Emile Zola, slice of life, and all that. So much imagery here:


a secret grey topped army



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Wouldn't want to one of them now, would we? A sharp delineation of the elderly as some sort of gang.

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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A little wry humour: My wife and I are septuagenarians and she rebukes me whenever I mutter under my breath: "bloody pensioners!" :biggrin: I'd thought of elaborating this to a question of social mobility (but who cares?). These places are usually just far enough out of town to segregate customers; and many of them incorporate small businesses and goods that used to be found in high street shops, that are now in rapid decline. A place to spend the whole day perhaps; whether or not you have a pot to piss in. :smile:

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