A Rhythm for Robert
Finished school on the Friday
work on the Monday
From the age of fourteen
he joined the workforce alongside his dad
Waiting for the train to come in at Central Station
collecting papers that came from London
Or tasked with rounding up men from the pub
who had taken their allotted ‘drink break’ a bit too far
A young man, a cyclist, an avid musician
Printing papers, dictionaries and bibles
when he worked casual shifts at Collins
Making extra money
to buy an engagement ring
Religiously filling in his diary
Always work then
meeting his sweetheart any chance he got
Jazz gigs, walks and watching the telly
It was a new-fangled invention then
He loved Stan Kenton so much he named his cat after him
Working constant nightshifts for almost thirty years
turning the day on its head
Watching his wife and learning
to cook in the few hours they had together
Leaving his family on Christmas Day
always keeping Glasgow abreast of the latest news
Retraining as technology developed
Before it rendered his role obsolete
The opportunity of early retirement
skin hardened from hot metal
his sense of smell corroded by chemicals
Finally his time to relax
All for his beloved to die two weeks later
a heart attack in their home on a Saturday afternoon
Their forty years of waiting to enjoy life together
never came
He worked so hard
They always work so hard
but joy is rarely their reward
The New Job
A drink to cheer
to whet a newborn one
a job that is
In French films
he has been looking two year
no more washing up
Shifts in the bar
his career on the up, not
working hard labour
Two Tribes
The agony of
one man’s loss, another
shakes a fist in
victory
Wondering if
home and the glass will
be intact
It’s all tribal
she says in a text
and our tribe won