Saturday, 3 July 2010

When younger,

I killed a small fly,
ripped up a flower,
gobbed down my ale,
looked a twit in the eye,
had barneys with mates,
was unloving and loved,
got down-low when pissed,
spun around, had a laugh.

Then I fell into sleep,
kipped until dusk,
opened my right eye,
flickered the left

and thirty years later,
I stretched and sat up.

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