The Stones

It's pissing in Swindon, no surprise.
I ride the bus, top deck, front.
The Red Lion is shut, the heavens open
wet my bones, drench my map.
Uphill on slippery chalk
a dogging wind blasts my head
stinking mud chills my socks.
I dream of Swindon
its vile coffee
its railway station

~ ~ ~


In the blur
the blur of people out there
busy people
anonymous people
a crack
in the time track –

A welcome reunion
A candied ballerina delicacy
cheesily free            happy

Do come see me, she hints,
Carmarthen Community Arts Centre
Summer Season
and maybe, she hints,
I'll grant you an audience

Like I could ever be so indifferent

I cooled my hopes, trusted fate
trekked to Carmarthen
found her            relocated

~ ~ ~