and then ...
and then that orange glow
that extends no further than
the cross bar of the lamppost
that holds a bicycle tyre above
a puddled yellow shuffling
at my feet
and then the lake of darkness under
the underpass, under (obviously)
the last railway bridge galvanised at
the edge of town in the darkness
that hides nothing but my fears
and then the pub with no lights
hiding around the corner with
shotgun galvanised shutters perforated
like a string vest smoking in the
moonlight of an age
and then
I am galvanised to ...
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