Let us be merry my photogenic heart;
We’ll wander the sodden streets of Manchester
Like a starving rat.
We’ll stop at the train station at midnight
To watch the first train pull in
With a river of refugees from the fringes of the town.
Wastelands hold no joy on a Friday night.
Cut, Paste, references, images,
A split second of a dancing girl,
A snapshot of a painter colouring the sky,
A Gypsy playing the accordion,
Cut, Paste. A scent remembered, the violent exchange,
The moment one flash of love dies and reignites
Like a wishful child.
All this in an hour walk,
From the bar to the bus stop.