Life's hard without mum

You spent one hundred to see that band.

It was too hot.

Sunny.

There were drunk people being loud and blocking the view.

You left to the shade of the parklands and lent against a tree.

You listened to the album in its bland perfection on mp3.

I like you.

Because we don’t give a fuck.

Get married because single girls find that sexy.

Making sense definitely isn’t.

The novelty’s worn off,

Let’s get drunk.

You stared at the drinks in the convenience store.

Then you stared at the prices.

Glass or plastic?

Class or volume?

You saved sixty cents.

Then spent similar caution finding that remembered dollar in your back-pack.

Just to give to a pushy alcoholic.

I like you.

Because we don’t give a fuck.

Get married because single girls find that sexy.

Reality definitely isn’t.

The novelty’s worn off,

Let’s get drunk.