Tapping, intermittently
By the workmen
With the wires
I don’t mind
No, honestly
For it becomes
A source of inspiration
Reminds me of my mum
On the phone for hours
To her best friend Margaret
Over sixty years ago
Also of my decision
Not to have a telephone
In my flat at Anchor Court
Instead I wrote letters
And today
Out in my cold, cold shed
Some of the replies are safely boxed up
I’m not even CEO
In my own home
And I live alone
Why is that do I hear you ask
Well Twitter for one
Someone liking a post of mine
From a week last Thursday
And those guys and girls
On Email, who either promise
To get my website to number one
Or offer me A Rainy Night In Georgia
If you catch my drift, which you might
If you are your own
Chief Executive Officer
He could not be in there
Yet, at that very moment
I thought to be down the well
With Mr Pye
This is the time of time
Not to be elsewhere
As the thoughts tumble
From the subconscious to the here and now
The sky is grey and blue
More one side than the other
The old days become the new days
While time works its miracles
Next door my neighbours
Are having their wi-fi upgraded
He told me this
Two weeks or so ago
The ache that does not go away
The ache that has not yet arrived
Such is the tour de force of life
That no one time will be forgotten
Also, that those same spaces
Those exactly similar feelings
Are not, quite unexpectedly
There for the sharing
A lifetime of individuation
Each one unique
Each one with its own aura
Where only our emptiness dances
Thousands of words
Though not many exclusively
Millions of thoughts
But only two subjects
I prefer myself without a beard
Yet I also would rather not to have to shave
Do you get my drift
I’m not much of a fan of the thesaurus
Oh but that one shave
Will I ever forget it
Have you already forgotten?
No worry, it always was mine for keeps
