Stag weekend

Gravity: tugging our luggage, bidding us settle down
As a new crowd, as doctors and developers
Converging on the Clyde, reminiscing about pills,
Both taken and prescribed. And

No one sighs, ‘Mine’s a small world.’ But I could.
Because I know/know of/once knew these men,
Though never knew them quite like this,
Beaming brightly. What radiance! What display!

What’s gilded these grins today, I wonder.
Fresh fillings, getting married, leaving LA?
Getting published, switching stations,
Radio Four?

Could be. Could be all the sun in Scotland. Why ask?
May as well ponder how it became Ben Nevis.
Inevitably, through explosion and withdrawal.

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