Free falling words, Fall from a clouded mouth, Somersaulting and cartwheeling, A trained vocabulary, Set free like Friday night school children.
Wandering around the big empty house of his mind, Like the old in slippers, Mouths dependent, Irregular bowels, Passers by No one visits.
Innocent lambs and shepherds pies, Lust and profiting thrives, People plotting in their tribes THE EGGS BEANS AND MUSHROOMS MAN, Eats his daily bread, And does the Mirror crossword, In the bottom garden shed. On the shelves in saved jam jars, Bits of his old classic cars.
Nuts and bolts and throttle springs, Remind him of so many things.
In the cafe, with a choice of six gutbuster breakfasts.
Sharing a pot of tea, And stale solitude.
Decoding and categorising this mans life, By the paint on his trousers, The greese on his hands, Quickfitters Blues, Taxi drivers all night eyes.
The egg beans and mushrooms man, Trys to remember his dreams, As his Tea grows cold.