They chant 20-year-old lyrics in unison
every Thursday night.
– can’t they wait until the weekend?
There’s a line around the block
to get in to somewhere
that shouldn’t need a line to get in.
I guess most haven’t been in before
except for the week before.
At 2.10pm it’s closed down,
It’ll be busy again next week.
So they spill out into an alley that’s
filled with them and council-sponsored graffiti.
They chatter meaningless nothings
I can’t believe her she says.
Or him that he did that to her.
But sometimes they attempt to mean something,
That’s not the right path for you she says to him.
They all trail off into the night time,
absorbed by their youth. It’s
the freedom of no-experience necessary.
Their bliss is being able to get up at 12pm
on a Friday.