Sundays

Local
Lunchtime
Early kick off
I gaze the rainy window
Across the lane
Where the Sunday brunchers
Form snake like queues
Around the block
Play a ladder climbing game
Like
Communist-era Poland queues
At the hip replacement joint
Bijou
Like
Aperol spritzers with babies
Bottomless
For hours
Tasteless
For quails eggs
On avocado
On walnut slices
An Instagram opportunity
Time waste it’s
Ridiculous
Christ it’s
Whilst I’m
With the knockers
In the local
Who describe it thus
That’s
What the middle classes do
When left
To their own devices