the flying men

we were the drunk men

the flying men

there in the bar

most nights we could

after working twelve hour days

only getting picked up

on Friday Saturday nights

by the girls & women

needing their own buzz

allowing stolen kisses

drunken fumbles

dark corner of the bar

in the alley

backs of cars

heavy petting

sometimes the sex

before returning home to him

waiting at home

who had lost his job

laid off this year

stuck in front of the tv

none the wiser

D had been laid off

winter being down time for the muck shift

working heavy machinery building roads

& called to say he was broke

could I help at all?

all he had was a mobile home

somewhere out next to a muddy track

I had nothing not even a hangover

scrounged around found a tin or two

old packets of dead dried soup

stuck my thumb into the December black

set out to see if I could help & the cars came slow

I wasn’t a pretty picture on the side of the road

me needing their ride their heater full on

talking up my mission of mercy

one guy bought me a coffee & doughnut

& the last ride gave me a five

with a bible tract said the lord would help

all I had to do was pray & he’d take the load

& when I got there D had had a come up

some money the govt said it owed

we had us a drink on that got a meal

& during the night the rats came in

to get out of the cold eating slices of bread

we had nothing for breakfast then

as I stepped back out into the dark

all I was holding the cold the road my thumb

headed back to where I came from

but at least now I had a hangover