#poem #poetry #amwriting #sketchbook notes 22 feb

how strange, on a full moon, on a freezing evening
in a land of square space without horizon
to think of a camel
as a metaphor for something

Hello Mrs (what is her name) uh Derek.
How's your wife? Oh you're alright are you.
I must go.

They all step out once, at the station
smelling of quick cigarettes and deordourising mint.
I step in
take a seat
soak in the lemon of the toilet, slightly sugared.

sweet burning wood caught black
burst unispiring words - get more
detached by experience

I said to her, I said to her, uh, I said to her
stiff legged, unconnected
to the body: loop armed
through the drunken night they go.
I went to her, I said to her
clip clop, tumble on with bunions.