The place where I come from doesn't bekon me.

It's always just... there, like part of my DNA

That never really goes away.

My home town doesn't beckon.  It's just there.  It just waits.

The places where I spent time have all changed hands in time.

But if I went back, I'd find... nothing the same;

Except the name, which always reamains...unchanged.

It waits for my retu...

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Taking my first girlfriend
to the pub at seventeen
Crossing the cobbles
of a gunmetal grey 
northern market town
Mitten in glove
warm in our teenage
prototype version of love
A chatterbox pint for me
a tipsy glass of white for her
and we’d find a quiet corner

Invariably, some red-faced
shaven-headed native
furtively eyes my companion
“Where do you come from?”
they’d splutter in th...

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