Another Country

I was almost drug-free in Rome.
Just reservoirs of alcohol,
the occasional tobacco-free spliff.
Let's not count caffeine.

Frequently, my flat feet
zigzagged a path
across needle-spattered parks.

Occasionally, a crowbar craftsman
funded a cocaine habit
from the pickings of our flat.

Once, you smoked opium,
the only time before China.
I experimented with champagne:
a bourgeois revolution
for that Brave New Year, 1989.

In Hong Kong still, you lavish
your new husband's income
on jewellery and "E".

A world apart,
I ponder my remaining options
of wives and drugs.

Bryan Murphy

If you've any comments on this poem, Bryan Murphy would be pleased to hear from you.

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