Most people aren't that happy anyway

When he arrives in the office he says ‘What’s up, slags!’
He says ‘What are you doing here, Colin you muppet,’
he says ‘Why don’t you return my calls, you pillock,’
and then he mentions his son
on a kidney dialysis machine
who he goes to see after work every day.

Suddenly he'll stop making jokes, break out of character
like an actor in a play when a mobile phone
is ringing from the audience,
'For God's sake!'
You can’t judge by his face or what he says
it’s the sound he makes when he sit down on his chair.
It’s when he puts his coat on at 5 o’clock
that transitory period from being at work
to putting coins in the hospital car park meter.

Most people aren’t that happy
so get down from the magic carpet you wish you were flying on
because most people are asking if their spectacles have been handed in to lost property
playing solitaire on their laptops
on a Megabus to London.
Of course there are people who have made it:
assistant producers at Radio 1,
waitresses at The Ivy,
Holly Branson

but you need to ignore them,
those people raking it in,
the photograph of the couple with a novelty cheque
on the front page of the local paper
shaking hands with the newsagent who sold them the ticket.
Most people are phoning work at 9.05,
‘I’ve overslept again. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
People are at how to quit smoking seminars in church halls.
or at overrated art galleries.
'I can't believe you made me come here.'

No-one is going to say ‘Oh look, a portal,’
and you’ll close your eyes, jump through it
and whoosh into last Thursday
and this time know exactly what to say.