Sunday 4th September



Mr Blow on the Ghost Train in loving memory. Everybody rolling,
slow motion spiders fall out of trees. The music of black top
sings to rubber rings. Flags flutter in a cool breeze, cast long
shadows, wave goodbye to summer. Discarded left-overs, last nights
bones exposed at the fun fair. Here he comes in cowboy hat & shades.
Leans back, one hand on the wheel, mobility scooter, one on the leash
of a tiny white dog scratching cold dirt, mobility scooter.
Tomorrow & all it’s fears are a pack of thieves. Phone a friend.


4 thoughts on “Sunday 4th September

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