Tea haze-phases work maelstrom to past troubles

as craic-anticipation glee-encourages

‘phone arrangements – chip supper piss-up with cards,

the whole gang’re going, all of them’ll be there.

Chip money extraction goes smoothly whilst we fight

over cider/wine/beer – grog dilemmas frazzle

anticipatorial fun-minds mid Two-Four.

 

Harully-chat car-participants scan the road

for street signs, matching names, sat-nav and common sense

looking for friendly faces and parking places –

hey, there they are, by the chip shop, let’s go – quickly

work out your order, stumble into 66;

cider’s victory establishes the piss-craic,

the razzle-rhythm and the dazzle-cackle fun.

 

Vinegar-fingers scrunch chip-damp, nosh chomped wrappings

into damp carriers – bin out, less ponk, more bliss –

can-crack piss-fizzes cider-craic, safe in gas warmth

card-craic eye-lights crib-passionate penny-peg folk,

laughing at embellished do-you-remember-when’s

causing why-don’t-we-do-this’s and shared glances

throughout second-can-cracking razzle-lust quenching.

 

Hash-bounded hours of hands and countings ebb driftward,

whisky-warmed life-smiles bless kind faces slumberward,

friendship repletion reassures firm-taped life-bonds,

forged crib fashion, fast and hard, no matter which road

a cribber takes, these years remain lore-established,

between learning fiends looking for new lives within

new worlds, hope-trespassing in new-life endeavours.

 

University of Life graduates rejoin

undergrad dreams of hope-prospect-filled ambition,

raring to unleash lives upon opened new worlds,

degree enabled; life’s cursed laws of sod

sabotage planned life-intentions without conscience;

plans to nought, wiser down the track, our cribbers know

University blips were spent learning hard facts.