Monday, 29 December 2014

Taxi on the Quays

Jumping into a taxi not yet arrived is 
The best part of a night, like parcels
In transit, doing the rounds, taking in the
Usual sights with renewed wonder, though

Enough times I've been knocking the on
Door to know that the child's innocence
Is squandered. Walking to town, looking at
My father's tobacco stained hand is long

Gone. First thing in the morning - 
An Icey road, 
First thing in the morning, 
Going to the border carrying a load
Full of meat. 
Pyjamas and slippers,  
Watching street-lamps, 
Knees to my shoulder,
Like a hunching snowball.

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