Poem of the Week: Fuel Shortage

All those hours my parents’ generation
sat in queues, hoping to purchase fuel
during the last great worldwide scare;

all those stressful hours, the dog whining,
kids arguing, no radio or tape deck
to while the time away,

only lists of things to be done —
the shopping, the washing, dinner
for seven to prepare —

and tall tales: that time when a friend
cycled, or was it walked, half a day
to be with his better half, sustained

on a boiled potato or a cut of bread;
the age of gods and superheroes, truly,
before petrol pumps would sprout up everywhere,

more threat than convenience,
rolling their eyes, calling our bluff,
loaded pistols pointed to their heads.

Pat Boran’s most recent collection is Hedge School (Dedalus Press). He is joint winner (with Annemarie Ni Churreáin) of this year’s Michael Hartnett Poetry Award.