Tuesday 8th December



Another transformed man-fox crossed the road up ahead as I drove home
early, in the grey light of what we laughingly call ‘day’.
He thought he was invisible, staying low to the ground,
skulking across the blacktop, cutting under hedges. We caught each
other’s eye as he glanced back over his shoulder, concealing a secret
as he slipped into the cover of woodland.
Leaf mould, wet & succulent odours, naked sticks dance along the edge
of roads. Surfing radio stations for something appropriate for a head
as yet not fully returned from Berlin. Growing closer to Essex every
day, yet still feel like a spy who’s stolen my identity as a cover
to move around – invisible fox-man.
People stop me in the street, smile, engage in conversation.
Talk about next years touring, an album & personal stuff.
Whomever I meet we always end up talking about the weather
& how to escape to sunshine.


5 thoughts on “Tuesday 8th December

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