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The Web Poetry Corner

David Singleton


Bolton, England, UK

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In line; on-line


David Singleton

I think I am not meant to queue.
My card is of another colour. But still, I do.
For I was always taught to queue
And that is therefore what I always do.
Muttering to myself, I take my place -
Another elderly lived-in face -
Awaiting the next available cashier,
Wishing myself anywhere but here.
An old man a bit ahead of me
In line, as well as age, so far as I can see,
Cannot grasp the reality
That his account has ceased to be,
Been shifted off to Leeds
With money, deposits, deeds:
Everything that shapes his life.
Beside him, his embarrassed wife
Worries he might start to shout:
"Oh come on, Albert, let's get out."
Behind us, someone is beginning to complain:
"Here we bloody go again.
It's always like this here, you know,
Always difficult, always slow."
They really do not want us here, you see.
Internet banking has to be
The future. Okay for those who cope.
For those who can't, no cash, no hope.
I wait for the first available cashier.
Once it wasn't like this here.
It wasn't like this anywhere.