Tuesday, 12 May 2015

day two week forty four year two

choking mask, sound of footsteps, and the light goes on, doors clathering murk dork night. Son to the bathroom at four, shatter sound as the glass door closes, FOUR.
Leave off the mask, lie thinking, sinking back into sleep.

Led Zeppeling stairway to heaven, the melody stuck between the ears. We wind on down the road, regular solo guitar. Not jones not bonham, alarm clock.


shower


nose, cream the nose, stop it going red again.


The day is bright, and there is a crow on top of the bus shelter, a raven bird on the rusty metal, cawing and crowing.
Dolores in the shelter on the bench, talking to herself. The two turks in there summerry clothes, a bright day. Off to their Doner Kebab stand, smell of cumin and burnt offering.

Deserted railway station, new girl at the counter.
So many are on their holidays, holidaying, flown.
the fields are soft and green in the morning sunlight.

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