Everyone’s on promotions now —
bogof, twofers, reduced for quick sale.
It’s what we war babies always did —
scoured for bargains, secreted pleasures.
An inheritance of thrift became habit,
even in later soppy days of plenty.
I splurge on things never then imagined —
books, music, a house to hold all,
education for the children, ambitions
grafted on totipotent lives, a plastic future.
by Colin Will