Tuesday 1st December



Walking in Berlin, rain, fists in pockets, fat white hat pulled low.
Legendary Punk, guid me where I need to go. Gathering in back room
harmony, head on straight. Returned to the night a new man, clean man,
thinking in straight lines. Windows wide to the city, sleep disturbed
by erratic noise. Two drunks sing at the bus stop outside my window.
Train brakes squeal, tyres hiss, a lone girl laughing at 4am.
Car doors slam, trucks honk horns, then silence just before
the alarm goes off – rolling in crisp white linen.


1 thought on “Tuesday 1st December

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