Wednesday, 13 October 2010


I’m seem to be waiting
In the shade
Of a tradesman’s promise,
That was honestly offered yesterday,
And regardless of how many times I say
I’m not going to do it again
I always do,

And as the shadow
Of his oath
Grows over today’s closure
I’m left to consider bidding elsewhere,
But then there are only so many grants
Available and plenty of days
Left to waste them.

So after licking
The stickiness
From a yoghurt pot top
I guess I’ll stand up and get my hair cut,
Seeing as how it’s now nearer a new day
Than it was when I sat down
In anticipation.

And wouldn’t you
Come to
A similar conclusion,
About the world’s worthlessness,
When just as you’re dressed to go out
A knock on the door announces
Their arrival.

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