GLASGOW ROYAL CONCERT HALL:
Woke up in a Glasgow bus station, a stickman on the blacktop
between the buses. People go about their business, don’t see me.
High up above the streets, crane drivers sleep off heavy nights,
wake them when you want them, sleeping in their cabs, chemically
re-arranged, still dreaming of bouncing Barrowlands.
No one pushes me or sees the pixels dance like you. I lie down
between sleeping buses let the city’s song drift over me & now
you’re back I’m happy.