A go home moment

I was in the pub and waved at someone I knew
but didn’t realise they were waving at someone else
and I thought the only thing I can do now is go home
and curl up in the foetal position
in the oven.

Hopefully he will have a few drinks and forget about it.
If I'm lucky something big will happen once I've gone
a heart attack or stabbing or something.
Maybe a stranger will go into labour
and he'll help deliver the baby,
the next day he'll be on the front page of the local newspaper
the baby boy named after him,

or perhaps on the way home he'll find a wallet,
hand it in at the police station at the end of the road
and they'll say you can't stick around for a while can you,
we're one short for a line up
and when the witness says 'That's the guy, I'd recognise the bastard anywhere,'
he'd be taken to the cells
'You're going down for a long time,' the cop will say
'you better get used to drinking coffee from polystyrene cups.'

Maybe hailstones will start smashing through the pub ceiling
people will be in fear of their lives at fireballs coming down from the sky
more biblical than Moses,
'Follow me!' someone will say, running outside, climbing down a manhole cover
and they'll all gather in a nuclear bunker
and see the Mayor in full regalia, with a glass of Champagne,
local celebrities playing computer games on beanbags.
'Were you followed?' the Mayoress would ask,
taking drinks orders.

The next time I saw him I wanted to be able to say
'It seems silly to mention it now,
what with everything that happened after I left the pub,
but I didn't realise you were waving at someone else.
I thought you were waving at me.'