bitter about elliott
we meet for coffee on wednesdays
and discuss his problems with ts elliott
his legs are thin and he does want to eat peaches
but more than that he cannot find the energy
to switch from long stanzas
to short
I'm tired of writing about myself
he says without quotation marks
clearly we have a barista
a law school drop out
for our coffee is patterned in honour
of something or another
of which we have no knowledge
and do not care
he stabs the design with his spoon
and unquotably sighs
for the clean air act
that deprives him of yellow fog
and the english degree of a certain age
that stops him writing rythmicaly
in long sweeping sentences that break out of the implied concrete structure
and then short ones
it's the bloody full stops he continues
if I leave them in they get in the way
and if I take them out I want to put them back in
and all this bloody spring everywhere
bloody daffodils I paint them red
and then shiela says that I am stealing her coffee spoons
that's her trick you see
blood everywhere
why she can't enjoy the relief of the menopause
oh don't quote me
we sip coffee and watch the world pass
wishing a black and white photographer
could catch us atmospherically not smoking
I'm just pleased he has dropped the silver cane
and the caution
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