leaving behind only yourself and the door unlocked
venture down the avenue
for the messages becoming the street
as you go and keeping an eye out for
a hole in your shoe the dog’s first word
a bundle of rye tomorrow’s paper
a pub with no beer a hole in the sky
they’re not just coming the convoy of
mobility buggies
they’re coming
for you
the cash machine keypad scalds to the touch in the heat
the printed balance slips you a ransom note for your money
then visit in no particular order
hair, nail, tanning salons bookie’s, grocer’s, off-licence
and video shop as the mood takes you
in search of
a bottle of stubble tomato polish
a half-pound of sun God’s own apostrophe
sure-fire odds
of a million to one
the dog in the barber’s swallows the hair and is sick
this 3 for 2 offer one’s not enough three you can’t carry
two they won’t let you the thing is impossible
leave it give up give it up
but not forgetting
bundling in the open door
you come bearing
a pint of milk for the tea
and a bag for life
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