spring

in this england, pale orange fur falls
from trees in spring and swirls
round our feet and
gathers in banks where
paving slabs are split and sticks,
darkening, to
wide splash-shapes under
bus stops and
churchyard benches near
the centre of town where
weekend drinkers throw up
protein and fat and special sauce on
fucking classic nights out, you
should of seen him he was
wankered, mate, it
was hilarious, the bloke's
a legend and I was all like
come on you lightweight