I got married at a registrar office in a town I didn’t know
amongst people I didn’t care for and I had to kiss the bride.
In a fog of whisky I ate sausage rolls, and other stodgy foods,
and suffered slaps on my shoulders by the well meaning, till
the car came and we went on honeymoon in Wales and
November, sleet was falling and I prayed for an accident, but
the bloody driver knew his job and got us to the hotel.
The room at the hotel was cold and I didn’t have coins for
the meter. When she undressed I went down to the bar and
drank as fast as possible. I had met my bride in a bar didn’t
know her but drink sodden as I was and lonely, I was dragged
Into a haze of love, a miasma of old dreams. Morning, rain no
escape, but borrowed an umbrella found a pub, drinks, went
into the toilet and cried my eyes out. Stood by the main road
waited for a bus, but it was Sunday, no bus services, walked
back the hotel and the pretence continued.
Copyright © 2012 Jan Oskar Hansen