It is beyond weird
walking these streets again
after all of these years.
I see the Drunken Ghosts
exiting pubs, singing loudly,
ah, I miss them so much.
I open my arms in greeting
but they’re too busy,
off to the next watering hole.
I trail behind observing,
I hear the same old talk
as they stumble on ahead of me.
“Chinese brothels…
hey, they wash ya first!
Corned beef pasties.
The sanding of wood.
The oil of engines.”
Long gone, long gone.
They don’t mention me once,
it must be amazing
being a Drunken Ghost
… I can’t wait.