LUNCHEON VOUCHER SERVICE STATION BREAKFASTS

in a boxy ford
we drove thru the night

for ramsgate margate
brighton & hastings

nirvana & sabres of paradise
& marlboro & magic trees

cats eyes a metronome
in the kinetic dream sheen

motorway maintenance floodlights

rude oases of smelting black

~

the dawn was tired
driving back

a flipside to
the orange moon

souvenirs stashed
under backseat parkas

with sea salted socks

& windows wide open

our army boots tapping

to the median beat

TO A CRITICAL MASS

but too tho the silence

the dense & concrete silence

well it makes gains up around your chair

like its building to a critical mass

& it 

could be
what some
would use
the word
g r a c e 

about

just not me not yet

i call it a screaming pause