LEAVING ESSEX FOR MADRID:
Oxygen starved in a box with a bed without opening windows.
Choose between an air-con-stripped throat or headache.
The latter brings the joys of neg-head & treacle leg,
but it’s preferable to not having a voice to sing with.
The upside is I like the number 13 & it’s Friday brother
makes me chuckle as others scuttle for talismans & cover.
Another hole for the sky, another leap of faith. The pain of
separation from family & home & bin day. The thrill of smiles,
of reunions, of focus, groove & adrenaline. Looking down on
Solaris clouds, remembering the first time, every time we
leave the ground. A pocketful of gratitude still to counter
any grounds for complaint.