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Thursday, 13 August 2020

In Every Place We Make Our Own Space

I don’t remember the bedrooms

Or the stairs

At Ten Brick Row

I am able to recall even less

From Whiteley Terrace

Not even the front door

So it was The Crown, at Birdsedge

Where clarity began

A snooker table, a football field

Back though into a vacuum

At the White Door

Room dividing curtains perhaps

Rotcher is clearer now than then

It was a King Crimson party

In a 1930’s semi-detached

Sadly not to last

On to two houses

A family half in half

Then an upside-down arrangement

A bedroom with a door

Onto a lane going nowhere particularly

Then finally, in this phase of life

A council house, with a window

Up above the front door

Which somehow

Probably pretty well inebriated

I would climb in through



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