roger-mcgough_jm9gjIf the Ancient Mayans were right

then this will be my last post.

If so, then all that remains is for me

to say ‘Farewell cruel world’ and I’ll

sign off  with an appropriate poem

by Roger McGough.

If not – I’ll see you tomorrow!!

AT LUNCHTIME by Roger McGough

When the bus stopped suddenly
to avoid damaging
a mother and child in the road,
the younglady in the green hat sitting opposite,
was thrown across me,
and not being one to miss an opportunity
I started to make love.

At first, she resisted,
saying that it was too early in the morning,
and too soon after breakfast,
and anyway, she found me repulsive.
But.when i explained
that this being a nuclearage
the world was going to end at lunchtime
she took off her green hat,
put her bus ticket into her pocket
and joined in the exercise.

The buspeople
and there were many of them,
were shocked and surprised,
and amused and annoyed.
But when word got around
that the world was going to end at lunchtime
they put their pride in their pockets
with their bus tickets
and made love one with the other.
And even the bus conductor,
feeling left out,
climbed into the cab,
and struck up some sort of relationship with the driver.

That night, on the bus coming home,
we were all a little embarrassed.
Especially me and the young lady in the green hat.
And we all started to say
in different ways,
how hasty and foolish we had been.
But then, always having been a bit of a lad,
i stood up and said it was a pity
that the world didn’t nearly end every lunchtime,
and that we could always pretend.
And then it happened…

Quick as a crash
we all changed partners,
and soon the bus was a quiver
with white, mothball bodies doing naughty things.

And the next day
And every day
In every bus
In every street
In every town
In every country
People pretended
That the world was coming to an end at lunchtime.
It still hasn’t
Although in a way it has