Daylight rain.
He went inside
and the words came to him
and the feelings were his feelings
It was
tissue-paper antimacassars
and being rotten drunk,
and having no money sometimes when
he saw a world he wanted and
needed it for.
People as big as football fields,
and fields that disappeared
from one time to the next.
He turned towards the hearth
but the fire was out.
Just
walking round
in the spacious
museum of his memory
or
waiting at the bus-terminal to go forward.
Time isn't forward, it
won't take you anywhere, you have to
get a map and search.
All his friends
were tiny with distance
he couldn't see them
any more...
by Michael Dransfield
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