Wednesday, 3 October 2012
Mostly, I do my best to fend off
but here, with breakfast bacon,
I get it down.
Left and right, two
flying finger pads
try to weave a net
from what’s around,
through ears and eyes,
heart and head,
with letters, words and spaces
tying a little philosophical knot
of what the hell is maybe happening,
why I’m here, what the people at the next table
are really saying
and whether one little letter, another word,
will settle, fly or capitalise.
On the radio, a jingle sings
and it’s travel news next.
Push-on, or stop, review;
turn off the mains, delete?