He rolls around his king-sized bed in distress.

Suddenly

He sits bolt upright and sharply

Turns

To face his alcohol cabinet.

Brandy.

Ronnie lights a cigarette, puffs, then chugs.

As the last drop of drink rushes past

His tongue, he stumbles towards the large en-suite with the

Large shower.

No shampoo.

No shower gel.

Just stands and sings.

Gets out, drips off, then ruffles his hair.

Behind the

Gold-framed

Wardrobe doors hangs

Clothing of a much different quality.

Gets dressed, grabs a

Pram

And rolls on outside.

Forgetting his

Doll,

Goes back, dresses that too,

Places it in the pram and leaves once more.

Once he reaches the

High, wide gate,

Ronnie looks around.

 

In centre of town, he

Visits the closest off-license

To purchase an eight-pack of

‘Special Brew’.

Drinks and drinks,

Then burps, proudly,

Loudly,

In whichever crowded

Space he finds.

He loiters at bus stations,

Pushes him pram round for the

World to see and lies on greens

For hours on end just waiting

And waiting.

The strawberry sunset signifies the

End of the day. Ronnie heads home.

Straight to the alcohol cabinet. This time,

Port,

Then collapses on the bed.

Now the clothes are ripped off

Then burnt and chucked out into the

Marble hallway.

 

Once again, Ronnie wakes up.

Whiskey mixed with vodka.

Shower,

Shitty clothes,

Pram.

This time, it’s a left out the gate, but

Ronnie still heads towards town.

‘Special Brew’,

Then to the field

That overlooks the city. Lies down,

Gets up to drink, then lies back down.

Walks back, buys more ‘Special Brew’,

Then to the bus station to burp

When more unsuspecting passers-by appear.

Ronnie heads back home,

Again, a different route is taken,

But straight to the alcohol cabinet,

This time,

Absinth,

And collapses on the bed.

 

However, Ronnie doesn’t wake up today.

He is happy.