Tuesday 10 May 2011

all back to mine

it's in the very small hours that crammed cars
careen hilariously round the edges
of sleeping midlands towns,
drivers high on the pills thrills and greasy kisses
of last night dancefloors and it's
all back to mine

look, look: there's another one

another what?

another person walking on his own
by a bypass
at 5 a.m.
with a plastic bag.
what are they doing, these people?

maybe he's killed somebody

maybe, hey
another one and look:
this one's got a plank of wood.
go round again round again, go back

wind down
the window

WHAT ARE YOU DOING
WITH THAT THING?
hahahahahahahaha
gasps a wasted carfull

1 comment:

  1. and in the bag there is a folded envelope containing an unpaid bill.
    on the outside it says 2 - avos, 3 - blood & a phone number.
    there is a t shirt and some socks
    and a book on alexander the great. He always carries a book. he is a lover of history and you always need a dry flat surface if you like a bit of sniff.
    can't remember the last time I put a line out on a toilet.
    where is he going? where has he been?
    wouldn't you like to know.
    but he isn't like you
    inner dialogue minimal
    his solace and his hero is himself
    sometimes unpleasant
    very consuming
    he is the original
    working class narcissist
    brought up on a diet of self preservation

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