Norwich in Aestate

Summer is wasted on the suburbs

Shining a lamp on blank pages

There’s a fizz in my head I could put through the wall

The walls of this flat

These beige walls…

Just move the laundry rack and charge

The neighbours won’t notice

Over the hum of mowers

Of hedge trimmers

And football results.

She’s in the corner, quiet again

Staring at her phone, puffy eyed.

I’ll go to the cupboard and drag on my sadness.

Tomorrow can screw.

Wake me in the morning and I’ll blow smoke in its eyes.

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