Brixton’s Orpheus shushing me asleep all night long

Pour into infinity the ashes of me

            when this work finally sets me free

Eating sausage rolls on the train

 

Writing to see how naughty Nigel will get

            and whether he put on his leather skirt again

Frosted breath blows sodium gold frustration

Some day you’ll be kings and queens not beggars

Dancing on the brink, till Bowie rose at dawn

 

They gather together, under the bright lights

We expose our angular impressions of what we see.

We can be the pretty crow and have every right to be.

 

I once saw a Train at Stockport going

            to Blackpool. I heard it was full on

the way back. My mum said she had

            a way ticket during the War.

 

One tooth dad who looks rank a robotic voice

            says he is a world away as the train comes and goes

then only to come back yet again

 

MEET ME ON WHITWORTH STREET

 

The penguins assemble to freeze out the tarrifs

Ziggy Stardust dreams beneath the viaduct

            and the moon.