down deserted dual-carriageways and black lanes
and
going thru the flyers for gold and block paving
and the bills and the bt internet pleas
piled
up on the doormat
i find a card from a florist saying they dropped my flowers at number 2 because i was out
wondering if its too late to go knock at number 2
and wondering
flowers
really?
i never got flowers before . . .
i find another card from the florist and a note from number 2
explaining
they made a mistake
the
flowers
were
for
the next street over
i walk up the shop for smokes in the last of the snow
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