THE DAILY

when tapping ctrl and p and enter and etc is over

it is;

After Work!

and in/home/safe

i'm draining the dregs from the dusty table

i'm selecting something more

in

clearly

labelled 

glass

and the music bangs its drum

and the music twats its snare

and the music paints stale and awkward time 

into a pretty and moving picture

i bath at last in lurid books that look at me like thieves

planning a brothel of wrought iron and wood

     later drunk –

              waving

              my arms about

          

crystal insight is on the tip of my tongue;

         

          theres no Holy Grail/a lie/just cool clutching palms and perfumed wrists of cheap jewels and one hundred plastic bangles

          just m+s bras/practical hot/and second hand black dresses tight and thin over thighs

and

cold

rattling

glasses

toasting . . .