First night, we both fell asleep
half-dressed, half juiced
in a corner of my bedsit
a youthful focus kept a clean sheet
Night Two, a blood-letting role-play
gammy efforts at him and her
An exam marked by monosyllables
A pattern on the wall
~ ~ ~
Bob
Dylan knocked on my door
Hey man, I've read y' words
maybe we could work together?
Yeah, great, err, but, Bob,
I mean, you're joking, right?
(Actually, I'm feeling guilty –
I haven't listened to Bob's lyrics
since Blonde on Blonde)
Fancy going for a pint – my treat?
Sure
We trek to The Allensbank –
but both glasses are ½-inch short of the top –
I feel I ought to complain – for Bob's sake
but Bob's bemused, he doesn't care, he's distracted
by local personalities, alternate realities
not Trading Standards discrepancies
(Hah! That's superstars for you!)
Bob, take what you want – OK?
I mean, this is a dream, right?
(Sorry, just needed to boost my confidence
No harm done)