1st September 1981

Oct 16th, 1960 | By | Category: Writing

A line of people and a bag of potatoes
and laughter in the queue as we stood
hoping not to get a mattress on the floor.
Bare wooden stairs to even barer dorms
and the bag burst and the potatoes fell
one by one down the steps,
a tattoo giving rhyme to hilarity.

Meeting over spuds the bond was sealed
by a late summer wasp,
putting me in hospital.

Were it not for broken bags and wasp stings
where would we be today?

If it was a bet, I wouldn’t take it.

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