Before the appointment

  Café full of those decent people

                 all pipes
                     all that joinery
                                wiring on show

           in grey disappearing skin

                         worked up as unworked 

                                 wanted blotches and

                          concrete washes

                   The wall is like a wall is somewhere

        I drink oolong tea better dressed

        than any of the other children

        (including the red-haired lad

        with the Raphael tattoo)

        said an amulet, strung

                      chatter bubbles bloom very steady

                          that sprung same talk

                picture: myself, fifty feet up

                  lifting a big old head

             with work sticky hands

                       drop

                       velocity

                       thumping sweetness

                      (a hidden baby 

                                 corner sigh)

      

                    the worn and

               paling tongue shut

                             up in doors

                     Aren't I to be childish any more?

  

          The words in the tune are, “You just

                  keep on saying

                         the same thing”.

              There’s digital clapping hands.

   I’m going off soon enough I’m gone