A new bar in Partick
in the old Glasgow style.
All the short forgotten men
in cheap carcoats flocked
to drink whisky
and argue over the merits
of Partick men
compared to
Dennistoun men.
(I saw their sons
supporting their sons
this morning, shouting “Hit it !”
from the red blaes byelines
to the under- 5s first team
who were playing Dennistoun
in the toddlers’ league.)
When I grow old
I’d like to be one of these men,
men with a place to be in
a place to be proud of,
unrepentantly
taking their drug
on a Saturday
with no hanging baskets
at the door
no cappuccino machine
under the gantry
and I’d like to stay protected there
till my good woman
comes looking for me
to say
my tea’s ready
and its mince.