Those bastards in their mansions
What's on, ny dear Ellie Menterry?
So here it is, the walled-up door
CRISP
If I move my mouth, it's mostly to smile
EXT-erminate!
Spindly in a heat-haze, almost out of sight
Bollocks
People talk nonsense and I put them straight
Yes, but what about the spiders?
O the unrivalled stench of branded skin
So the holiday proceeds, a series of snapshots
I'm dreaming of that work "Man seated reading"
They sit as far apart as you can in a small compartment
My dear, my skeleton will set like biscuit overnight
On a late bruised-looking roadside weed, a butterfly
Ignite the flares, connect the phones, wind all the clocks...
They walk too far, out in the sticking mud
Behind the spreading butter comes the knife
Her they come, books, skin, lattes
The milk and the post arrive with a baby
All over town, cracks in pavements, patios, walls
No convictions, that's my one major fault
He toyed with a naked razor
You are near again and have been there
When did I ever see you wear a hat?
Instructions, under plain brown covers
with just a toothbrush and the good earth for a bed
your man is long gone, and I have loitered
The autumn, when the convicts took their leave
Friday, 20 April 2007
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