Talking Through Doors

Twenty

You’re backing a cause

That’s littered with flaws

As you think it’s the right thing to do

You rail against wars

And partisan laws

That benefit only the few.

You vandalise stores

While shrieking up yours

And your hair may be long or a crew

You’re talking through doors

On open plan floors

And your head’s more than slightly askew.

Forty-five

You’re emptying drawers

To settle old scores

Which you reason is long overdue

You’re upbraiding bores

And government whores

But your argument’s not getting through.

You’re fearful of spores

And sudden cold sores

And your health is now under review

While talking through doors

Your blood pressure soars

And life’s emptiness comes home to you.

Seventy

You dream of spring tours

Of far away shores

But you fear they will never come true

You merit applause

Not unkind guffaws

From old friends that you thought you once knew.

You’re down on all fours

No let up or pause

You’re a Moslem a Christian a Jew

When talking through doors

Is echoed by snores

You’re approaching the front of the queue.