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Friday night

Finding Excitement On A Friday Night

A Fire Alarm Resounds.

Which is what happened last night at 10:20. It sounded as if the last trump might be in progress.

I called 911. I was asked if I smelled smoke or saw fire (after the dispatcher told me who I was, and where I lived). I said ‘no’, just the building’s fire alarm going off.

I was told I better get out.


Which I did, after I checked the building (laundry room especially). On the second floor I did see smoke – smelled like fish. Buddy at the end of my hall was also there. I asked if he was going to the third floor. He said ‘yes’, so I did decide to leave.


I propped open the front door and waited outside with the very few other tenants who also left.

First fire truck within three minutes.

Two others in the next five minutes.

I told the firefighters of smoke on the second floor.


And that was pretty well it.

Grease fire.

We tenants milled around for twenty minutes. It was a pleasant night out.

A firefighter turned off the alarm.

Moderate smell of smoke on my floor.

The other two fire trucks stayed up on the intersection of the two streets.

All returned to normal.


I don’t need to go anywhere for Friday night excitement.

The Inviting Lights Glow On A Friday Night In A Distant Port

Except the port is


Not that distant.


I don’t even need


My spyglass


To see the street lamps


Well-lit,


Especially the Three Sisters Lamp,


Lined up straight with


The steeple of Trinity Church


To give the captains


Of the ships


Somewhere to aim.


For they all aim,


Past me,


In my lighthouse


At the mouth


Of the harbour.

.
And they all


Go past me


To safe haven

,
And Friday night


Deviltry and celebration,


And rum galore!


Whilst I can


Only watch


From a distance.

{I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2021 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL

I Am A Sophisticated Friday Night Drunk

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(Some New Brunswick Friday entertainment)

 

It is a Friday night
In New Brunswick.
There are Friday nights
In old Brunswick,
They are called
Freitag Nacht.
 
 
In New Brunswick (perhaps of old),
The guys and gals
Got drunk,
And ate well,
To celebrate
The weekend.
 
 
Steaks and beer,
(Maybe fish & chips),
As long as one was
Well-oiled
To slide into Saturday.
 
 
But I am a
Sophisticated
New Brunswick
Drunk
 
 
Though
Perhaps not
Refined.
 
 
With my steak
(and fries),
I have red wine.
Red red wine
Though – admittedly –
From a box.
 
 
But it is
High-toned
Red red wine
(In a box),
Imported
From Australia.
 
 
Where they also know
How to eat steak,
And let ‘er rip
On a Friday night.
 
~ D.E. BA U.E.

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