The Queue

by | Apr 12, 2010 | Poetry | 0 comments

I mustn’t complain,
But the queue’s in the street and it’s started to rain.
There’re two at the counter, designed to take seven.
I got here at ten, now it’s five to eleven.
It’s the same at the Doctor’s, the Building Society;
We all stand in line, so passive and quietly.
And that’s what we get for our British reserve,
A customer service we seem to deserve.

But now I’m at the counter, I’m queuing no more.
Oh s***!
I forget what I came in here for!


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