REDUCED

cold.  ice snow on the ground.  winter England beautiful. rare and white surprise.  older generation reminisce of the 70s.

we

seem

pathetic

and

afraid

if

you watch vicarious doom news on the death TV.

small dinner from tins I drink a beer fat builder too tall filling hallway confesses to cheap lamps.

he

smells

of

new cut wood and plastic.

has no name jeans hang overloaded we chat about that Ian Dury film

tho i never saw it.

later

reduced . . . just Reduced . . . pondering lo-fi video downloads of white static.

technology

is

splendid

but not on trains.

later . . . reduced, just Reduced . . . phone ringing on the barstool

I

don’t

answer.  guilt coming in catholic pangs banish this with tidying. pretend I am in control tho legs shake all palsy with coffee tension.
I

stretch

out

in

the

dark waiting . . . her black red bra hanging off the Elvis mirror

reminds

me

of

an

outlaw border town bordello.