Maybe it was something
To do with the radio
Blasting out Quo then Robbie Wiliams
And the driver’s out of tune vocals
Dancing across the rain/
The two teenagers asleep at
Just outside the graveyard with the Smiths
Chattering in the rain
Or the tramp shuffling
On the doorstep of the travel lodge.
An now ex friend running late
To pick up her daughter from the childminders
Or the Policeman stood up the road
With a kehab dripping off his jacket
As he tells off a speeding driver.
Street lights turning grey
Then flashing blue
And pub doors clattering shut
Like old western saloon doors
In and out of the wind.
Movements weaving together
In the weather
Like a jigsaw
Before changing halfway completed
To a game of cluedo,
Before hurling themselves
Into the river
Like a cult finally giving up,
Movements stretched
skyward
With umbrellas and caps
Dancing in the heavens
Painted in red blue blood,
Leaving you with more questions
Than answers.
(Day 25 is a kinda the morning after poem after
The previous night with a jigsaw feeling like
A mood that morning as I was left with
A series of questions separated from answers)
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