Thursday 9th August

THE DOOR TO SOMEWHERE ELSE:

The music makes my toes curl,
The kind they play when you get a massage,
That I always ask to be turned off,
(Politely),

Well,
This is worse,
It’s got fake strings,
Imaginary bigness,
Swells of plastic emotions fill an otherwise perfect evening,

It stops suddenly,
A distorted voice says,
(Deep & low),
“Test”
Fantastic!
Here comes the night,
Announced with a beautiful imperfection,
That makes small children laugh,
And families stop eating to gasp

(K)

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