It’s Wednesday when the friends meet,

the three of us together,

eleven oclock, Wednesday morn’

regardless of the weather.


Coffee, tea and cigarettes

and pass around the pipe,

chocolate biscuits, conversation,

chance to have a gripe.


We laugh at the absurdities

of life in a small town,

settled, stoned and comfortable

that Wednesday’s come around.


Relgion, sport and politics

and art and love and life,

the wisdom of the ancients,

the latest bit of strife.


All up for conversation

which reluctantly must end,

until next Wednesday brings with it

the gathering of friends.

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