The Upstairs Canteen

It’s noisy; sometimes you have to shout

To tell your friends who’s going out with who

The walls are a sort of apricot colour

With white highlights on the wooden mouldings

The chairs are all the same uniform style

Dark blue seat, blue legs

Sometimes a red one, white framed

Sneaks its way here, upstairs

Often, one can find plates, bowls

Of abandoned food, empty cans, wrappers

A couple of entrepreneurs have stuck

Caramel chocolates to the low, ribbed beams

Once there was a Dairylea carton

Everyday, break, lunch, frees

People, friends, play cards

Chase the Ace, the more brutal Bullshit

Or Fuck a Fish

Others just sit and talk, shriek, giggle, laugh

We have been told to keep the noise down before now

The smell from the kitchens wafts up periodically

Chips, burgers, beans, sausages, curry on Fridays

Someone screams snap, a can clanks onto

The speckled table top

The five minute warning bell goes at 1:50

And slowly but surely, only litter and ghosts remain