And how do you do
it
how'd you do it
before I'd seen you;
heard the dogs bark
at the it's always
darkest before dawn,
watched the phone tower
between me and the airport
take form in relief
against the rising sun,
had your morning dew
evaporate and clear
my sinuses of the 20
Lamberts I'd smoked
on the evening shift,
before I'd even travelled north
waking up damper
and damper, so damp
in the Wild Bean cafe
snatching at buffet bars,
long scotch eggs
full of rancid
coleslaw
and Clubs for the mouth feel,
dreary in the van
the BNP in Wrexham
and the van passed my other
on its ghost lap slowing
down for lunch in a pub
in the Peak District
how'd you do it before the
mist this morning on Skillman
said new weird old York
and I said this morning,
moistening me,
is different.
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