Memories Of A Drunken Concert

by niallkillian

It started in that tipping point
before the hour of midnight
as I wandered from the first bar
and went searching for the next

After vacating the theatre
I had met a group of actors
but they couldn’t last the distance
so I set out on my own

And the pots of beer were flowing
all the different shades of amber
the patrons ply their chatter
I make eyes across the bar

With my signals not receiving
I decide to venture onwards
so take up my leather jacket and
make a beeline for the door

As suburb dwellers scrambled
for the last train home til morning
I encountered fellow travellers
outside some dim-lit crowded dive

When they asked where I was going
made a comment on my fashion
appreciate the rock-star t-shirt
you must linger one bar more

In the cigarette smoke fog screen
we establish they are German
produce a beaten old guitar and
make our way up from the hum

As we stumble down La Trobe street
filled with liquor and good feelings
we busk Beatles, Pop and Bowie
passers by break in to dance

We exchange a farewell embrace
at the steps to their dark hostel
as I see the creeping sunrise
light the park near my hotel

I’d have liked to keep on singing
but the sheets and blankets comfort
and instead I slip to sleep while
the clock hands signal day

And just like my fleeting dreamscape
my great musical career
dissipates in to the memories
of the drunken concert band