The Loop At The Edge Of Reason

Christmas eve seventy-seven

Snowflakes prickle on exposed skin

I pull the duffle coat tight around my neck

As I weave my weary way up Westgate

Glancing in the Black Horse windows

As the amber light spills out

Onto the crystal streets of Wakefield

Paving them in wuffle-dust

My mind wanders and gears click

As I think of all the H...

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