again
the
dr wont help
and
i
limp away from the clinic
joints
only
half
on
fire
but
whats that anyway
in
light of what the sunshines seen ?
and
cos of course theres
no
cabs
on
this
small
thin land
its
commuter o clock
school
run time
and
i limp on
joints
only
half
on
fire
~
i go in a cafe
i
get coffee
i
sit deep inside
the
morning radio chatter
and
the extractor
hum
happily
a nothing
a
no one
new
in here
~
and
so then this guy comes in
hes
jolly as a sand boy
i
not seen him for 15 20 25 years
not
seen him
since
the mall days
of
199biscuit o clock
he
worked for free
on
a care in the community scheme
we
sold white goods
flatpack
bookcases
luggage
and
id lose half the morning
saying
no geoff
not
there geoff
over
here geoff
while
geoff laughed an infectious laugh
and
tickled all the girls
till
he was
told
to stop
~
he
sits a table away now
clapping
like a seal
waiting
on fresh fish
hes
tapping on the waitresses forearm
like
its bongos
he
gets sausage and beans
tea
and toast
with
a crisp new tenner
and
laughs to himself
funny
secrets
only
he knows
shiny
elbows on the table
new
trainers crossed underneath
i
pull my hat lower
what
would happen if i said
hey
geoff
long
time no see ?
i
dont tho
fuck
no
~
i
write him down instead
and
it
calms
the
needles in my fingers
and
the
spikes
in my head pan
and
dims
the colours
sands
down the shine
and
all this cafe . . .
its
like a vessel
and
seems
somehow underwater
~
its
full length window
has
a high street view
of
all
the
skinny
jeggings
and
gelled
waves
everyone
with an oblong
in
their hand
out on
the fucktown pavement
and
i know horribly that
all
their orifices
are
only clothes away
and
i cant tell
if
im in the aquarium
or
they are
~
and
theres a drone in here
like
from
heavy
ships
screws
far
far above
and
the ceiling fan
in
a pale wooded recess
turns
inevitable and obvious
turns
dignified and modest
keeping
the
morning
machine
together
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