Tuesday, November 20

The Monday Morning

the monday morning
drone of
halfdeaf traffic
cased me

up, the unhappy fog
riding length
ways. townspeople
on their way,

puddles & astonished fist
fuls of dead
leaves against a bus
depot of two

year old film adverts.
men talk of
beating up outside pubs
or beaten up

,catching the last good
comedy at the
princes before heading to town
for women

remnants who puke and piss and
never miss
a doorway, laughing,
joyous men

tickling my lungs
in site offices
whom I love as the
colour of life

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