Skip to main content

Saturday Night

I could have spent my Saturday night drinking.
One large whiskey and soda and stop sharply at that.
And spend the rest of the time watching others
slowly degrade themselves into gibbering morons,
uttering invectives at all and sundry.
Descending into hell even as they hallucinated heaven.

Instead I spent it with some children, not quite bright,
but wise enough not to go searching for happiness.
With them I was positive in thought,
freed from the need to kvetch at the world,
or the schadenfreude of ratting on colleagues.
But I learnt to take the day as it came,
to filter out the loathing and retain the pats on the back,
to rejoice in joy, anyone's joy.

That night, I didn't discover what I could be.
I discovered what I should be.