the bore at the bar is talking
elections
pinch-nosed words
of his concrete eyed view
and all the pub listens
for we have no choice
it's simple he says agree
with me
come see the world darkly
of which I see
for I dream
that will set you free
and all the pub listens
hypnotically
his view is of the fashionable
there was no history before
nineteen eighty
when we escaped eden
and entered the sewers
and I want to say were you there
with nasal tones
and shaven hair
your manbag
hirsute chin neatly trimmed
in a quim
but of course he wasn't
which is why talks
of representation proportional
but forgets
we voted for that and rejected it
he drones as I leave
he's still droning still
The Blue Book
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