Clare Dollard on Lower Cecil Street outside the G.P.O.
G. P. O.
.
Greatly Pissed Off queuing
Seeking service- express.
The parcel is not for you,
And there’s no forwarding address.
.
Greeted Politely On entry.
Your query, dealt with – quick.
‘It’s a self-adhesive stamp,’ says the clerk
As your tongue protrudes, to lick.
.
Greying Pensioners Orbit
Around tasslled green ropes as they wait
For the meagre sum they receive
From the powers that be in our state.
.
Gratitude Pours Out from the few
that won on the Lotto.
Their supplications finally answered
After hours of prayer at that Grotto.
.
Generations Posted Onwards
By boat or perhaps air mail.
The kids of the Noughties believe
All deliveries are made by a snail.
.
– Clare Dollard
.
