Old Friends

Old friends My friends and I are elderly men with protruding bellies, we drink whisky in the evening and talk about the old days; and of friends that went before us. We feel slightly envious of them, as we have yet a death to come. The war in Afghanistan has lasted ten years and might last ten more years this makes us smile for we know wars are endless, like a bad back we have to learn to live with. Little has changed in our life time, avarice and lust for power rule ok. In the bar we talk about football, a game of utter futility. When we leave and see a beautiful girl walking past we don’t bother to turn around for a second glance, what’s the point. When a friend dies, usually of cancer or heart attack, we go to his funeral, drink whisky, shudder and talk about him, sport and the crazy world we live in.