Pulling at the barbed wire fence; these
Are the big fields, of Norfolk & Suffolk
A lament plays on the car stereo
Good times appear to be on the water
Where was I five minutes ago
I didn’t then know
Of the garden centre cafe
And the rows and rows of weedkiller
This restaurant I have been to before
But not alone, not alone in the early evening
Before the jovial ‘out for a good time’ diners arrive
I wonder at the decor, it’s neat, professional
The whole place sparkles and appears well run
Unlike the downbeat town where I fear to walk
Yet what connects me to the orient; I have never
Been there, I never really desired to; yet I’m eating
A chow-mien duck special, and reading Murakami
Becoming immersed in his hyper realisations
Joining him in streets, on trains, in temples
Thats as close as I’ve been; yet I’m almost ahead
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