when

 when 

when approaching the Chesapeake

the scene is cut by a snake

hurrying

with you explaining how 

frogs voices can be recreated 

in pigeon english 

shit

the scene contracts

DC is a form of current 

tingling across the unseen

unable

we retrace our steps 

the epstein men’s mien

 the epstein men’s mien 

time catches up with them

these sad old men

found guilty ~ guilty! guilty!

their perceived impunity 

stopped at the door

of balanced thought 

the password ‘sorry’

not recognised

away to the stocks with them

pelt them with the pus

from their lanced boils

let the night of retribution

come down upon them

slowly close their door

the brain worm

 the brain worm

the invisible robot

corrupting thought

so that they forgot

the restraint do not

so they did 

with a vengeance 

that seemed a timeless

inheritance 

it was not news to them

but history made large

obvious

a no brainer

was the last thought they had

too late the epitaph 

their fingers wrote in the dust

junior school in the 1950s

 junior school in the 1950s

   let me show you mine

four years

   three streams 

      A   B   C

I was always in stream A

top class 

  six rows

I was always in the first row

 six double desks

I was usually on desk three or four

 never desk one

although I was once as I recall

sitting with Alan Rees

he was always on desk one

god he was boring 

I preferred desk two

sitting with Wendy Redacted

I once showed her mine and she showed me hers

she lived in the second stone semi

up Redacted road

where the approved school was 

in infants school I played with

Gloria Puttyfoot and Linda Clutterbuck

Gloria used to spin me at arm’s length

and helped me jump up onto the coal bunker

    never saw them in junior school

even their glorious names didn’t help

they were Cs you see

small tributaries 

small wonder  small wonder

all water under the bridge to nowhere

the news rote large

 the news rote large

the invisible robot

corrupting thought

so that they forgot

the restraint not too

so they did 

with a vengeance 

that seemed a timeless

inheritance 

it was not news to them

but history made large

obvious

a no brainer

was the last thought they had

too late the epitaph 

their fingers wrote 

in the bloody dusk

hey aye the asses oh

reflecting on the picture frames

 reflecting on the picture frames

haunting

the way they were or weren’t 

or never will be again

a child chins the window of tomorrow 

lifted by yesterday’s hand me downs 

time to smile just in case they are

or maybe aren’t looking 

perhaps they never were

do you see what i see

race you!

wait for me!

 wait for me!

he went

so that he could come back

you wait knowing 

he’s not coming back

you are half gone with it

the walk back 

talking his hand

back home to wait

for you to get ready