perfectly midde aged

this was not part of the literary challenge: it was written 

for a New Statesman competition – a poem but it also 

works as a short story complete in its own right

    It’s a joy to be totally healthy

As my laptop boots up on the train,

And to know that I’m really quite wealthy

With a house, plus a villa in Spain.

But this feeling of loss never goes now,

And this feeling as if I’m caged:

I suppose this must be what it feels like

To be perfectly middle-aged.

     Yes, my family’s perfectly darling,

And my friends influential and bright;

And I’ve switched to Rioja from Carling,

Yet I still wake up screaming each night.

And at work I am known and I’m rated,

And I win corp’rate battles waged,

And I dress in Paul Smith (understated)

Since I’m perfectly middle aged.

      And I’ve dabbled in shares and in stocks, mate

Because profit’s no longer a crime.

No, I don’t watch a lot on the box, mate -

Cos I really don’t have any time.

So I’ve started to listen to arias

And I went to that Damian Hirst cow.

Yes, I’m really now jumping the barriers

To be perfectly middle brow.

     Yes, I’m terribly cosseted, matey,

And my life is a little cocoon.

And I’ve noticed that sometimes, just lately

I start thinking: Please, Death, take me soon.

Where’s the passion, the joy, the exploring?

God - it’s years since I felt outraged!

Maybe that’s why it’s perfectly boring

To be perfectly middle aged.