Down the road
Across from the garage
Huge piles of crushed stone
Overgrown now
I remember it as a public house
The Marquis of Granby
It was a stopover
For our coach
One Friday night
On the way to Sheffield
Philip Brammall
Steve Clough
Gene Marston
Perhaps my younger brother Leslie
They were there
Making merry
Acting daft
What lads do
On the way to growing up
Bright light
On the glass window
Blue sky
Above the green trees
This is idyllic
Tell don’t show
Strong breeze
Sways branches
Clouds cross small window
Rapidly to bring dullness
You trick me by saying
Let’s call this wonder
She raised her eyebrows
Spoke in that condescending style
Which suggests she has the authority
But more than by simply being
Posture, upbringing and mental strength
Gift her this delightful sublime appearance
Next time it will be the dhal
Or rather the Maharashtran dhal
Which conforms her place presently
Men are in charge, in restaurant, shop and café
Perhaps they are personally chosen
Or maybe it is a nod to their societal background
There is opportunity out there
But it is out there
It won’t come to find you
Today for instance
The marble rolling pin
And bread board
Ideal for your outdoor
Pottery venture
Lattice, lattice and lattice
Why wouldn’t you expect to pay
So why arrive at the till
Without card or cash
Although the five-piece minimalist set
At sixty-five pounds
Is way outside your budget
Where next is the question
Back to base perhaps
To leave other places
Such as the cutlery factory
Until tomorrow
Or the day after
Bathe in the reflections
Of this morning
Along minor roads
Which you sort of know
Even if you are uncertain
As to where they are going
