Wednesday, May 17, 2017

James Walton #57 Leary's therapy session




This town in the gap
past Lightning Breach
between two cellophane dispensers.
I worked stranding the wool clip
with other women,
until someone in the federation complained.
A place with lime green tiles still,
and Royal on all the sign writing.
He had to let me go.
A pity,
then had to pop in for a quick one,
a smell of deodoriser pellets
where the whiff has an unpronounceable flavour.
Over sized cops
chased a pair from the upended car.
All the noise of pin striped assimilation
collected on the kerb,
fell to guttered leaves.
The station master told me
the ticket could only be purchased on line,
but son, you can’t do that here.

2 comments:

  1. this is the world in which we've arrived

    ... and how did we get here?

    ReplyDelete

  2. The kind of trip
    that has you ended
    before you bloody start
    don't believe
    we was born
    to slavery


    ReplyDelete

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