working nights 199whatever/it was dark
we all got morning drunk
in
service station car parks with tiny dancing birds
and we all laughed at wobbly john
he
couldn’t keep still
on the move/shuffling/shaking/gibbering
and
making
Bad Jokes All The Time
he was temping/passing the time
earning easy cash for christmas-pressies for his kids he'd say
'thats
all
i want'
it
never
occurred
to
any
of
us
laughing and thieving and toking winter nights
away
till toast and fry ups and Three Guns whisky after
dawn
in the empty Bell car park till opnening
that
there
was something wrong with him
he died/he had a disease/it made him shake
and
when
the news
reached us/saner and slightly sober in the new year
his
Bad Jokes All The Time
made
all
the
sense in the world
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