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He bullshitted it as the idea of simple maths,
trying to explain away faith in fractions,
disasters in decimals, mayhem in multiplication.
The list goes on, I digress,

Riding around, the guys, in their cars, see her like a Smokey Angel in the periphery of their vision... They love this Lady Boss, these lost boys.

some have a voice &
the ability to curb that voice
so that it smooths itself out
like a new satin sheet
catering to the most sensitive of
hearing &
dancing upon the erogenous hot spots

“When you die”
Said my wife,

My father left me three acres of land,

Serial following the lives of two truckers in the early 1970's

when it comes to grips
with these life choices,
back pocket begins
to burn, there is no wallet,
something has finished.
paid for.
where to go from here, did
we take the only road?

for Dear Sinéad O'Connor who I met one stoned night at a mates house xxx forever a fan its a first draft. so I will be playing with it.

An unfashionable district in an dystopian city in a country which could neither be shaken, nor stirred