I miss Glasgow today, so I am posting a poem I wrote some time ago after consuming a vast quantity of a local beverage known as ‘whisky’, which is enjoyed beside raging open fires and in rainy bus stops all over the country.
The poem is a short one, about the day I quit my job at the Mental Health Unit in Govan. It’s called ‘Last day on the job’.
The River Clyde is a big dirty snake and you are riding its back, somehow.
It slithers along, through the town and then down,
Past the houses and car parks and pubs all still sleeping.
Past a barking Alsation.
Bow your head and be patient.
It’s your last day on the job…