After days rambling, footloose
rootless, return to the flock
& in a station line a lunk bleats
Get me a cappuccino Verity
No chocolate... Verity! Don't want chocolate.
Behind him a nasty piece of work mutters
You'll get what you're given
and fucking like it
Later seated, snoozing and
sprawling, at literal Crewe a huffy arrival
plonks his backpack in the vacancy,
rummages interminably while reeking of
barbecue bites and wet dog
While the same nasty piece, already
beaten back into submission
Croaks an inaudible
ineffective oath
No comments:
Post a Comment