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imageNeil calls it
the petrol pumps
It’s the filling station
Big Bu’s place.
How long is this going to take?
Comes the reply,
It’ll be done in jig time

I’m going to take a long bath darling.
We close the door
I sit drinking coffee
She lies in the water with eyes closed
Reaching across oceans of time and distance
I go to the mirror
But the condensation stops me
From shaving

I amble along the roadside
One Antler standing just inside the woods
suddenly cantors and I catch sight of his arse
disappearing amongst the trees
I make the boats
Tourist landmark
Should I gather some brambles for breakfast?
Buzzard on telephone pole
What do you think?

Imagine gathering all those pages
The fallen leaves of Autumn
The poet discovering
His output
is but a thin tome

Returning
The sun still to rise
Above the hills
Clouds of smoke
From big Bu’s chimney stacks
I should set the fire
Towel dry the mermaid

The imbecilic process of my thoughts

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