1990s RUG

in bed i'd be high from the evenings smoking
and trying to sleep fast before
the
morning
and work and waking
and
my
mind would be white fire and racing
throwing
up 
phrases and poems and truth verbatim
so
often
too wasted to have a pad handy to jot in
i'd fix my gaze 
on the cheap chequered rug
my mind on the words - 
the plan; 
to hope
they would lock in
so
in
the bleary and sudden morning
the sight of the rug would get my mind jogging
and
the
words would come and stay
for me to write down safely after clock-in
in
the
locker room 
of retired dock workers
and blaggers just there for thieving