The Hour by Paul Tanner

Another shift done,
another unpaid hour
locked in the shop to tidy:
hardly original, is it?

it happened the last place I worked
and it’ll happen in the next place:
it’ll happen every night you work
forever, mate

this is simply the boss way
to remind us and herself
that she is the boss
to remind us and herself
that she can
can’t she?

yet I hear the shrill snippets in the canteen:
her fellah has liked another girl’s facebook picture
her fellah has been texting another girl
her fellah wasn’t home when she got in
even though she got in
an hour late

so yeah, go on sweetheart
tell me all the shelves need polishing again:

that will reverse the ravages of the clap.

Paul Tanner photo
Paul Tanner’s new book ‘Notes of A Pleb Vol. 4’ will be available soon and this poem’s from it.
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