You blow out candles, you kindle fires…
Yes you may well blow the answer. And you may very well bring change. But you left me with enough grit in my eyes to fill a pothole. And you damn near flung me off the East Link Bridge.
See today I cycled to work against your wall of wind. A wall of wind I tell you! It made every pedal an epic, blustery struggle. Moreso you made me late and flustered me up.
I love you wind, but damn you can be so stubborn sometimes. And like Charlie with the mega beard, I don’t think I’ll ever know what colour you are.
Work. Life. Spring.
A breeze. A scent. A sense of life.
Spring. The sun. A golden light.
A car. Red car. Go slow. White door.
A sound. A band. Of marquee moon.
A man. Old man. No plan. Grey beard.
A haze. A hum. Mechanical strum.
A girl. Short skirt. He looks. She likes.
A child. No cares. No hair. All smiles.
A day. A life. A walk to work.
Bastardos…
The sky is blue, the birds are singing in the trees. It’s a lovely spring morning.
Yet I’m rightly pissed off.
The two NTL contractors have just left. And I don’t need a trail of mud on my oatmeal carpets. Fucking Liverpool fans.
