Saturday Afternoon: a launderette poem

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It is time for another launderette poem
By another espresso macchiato

It is time for another good poem
It is time for another shitty poem
Of dirty laundry of dirty love
Of frothy coffee of blood-stained sheets

Single ladies immerse themselves
In the lifestyle pages of Saturday newspapers
Single bold men immerse themselves
In the motoring pages of Saturday newspapers

Boredom. I’m waiting for my laundry to dry
Kids around even more bored than their parents
Of themselves

Some pseudo-intellectual jazz in the background
Oozes even more boredom flowing heavily like ice-cream
From an ice-cream machine the day is kind of cold and kind of dark
But not quite

I hate incompleteness. I want fullness.
The deepest darkest gloom.The sweetest joy.
But I find myself over and over again
At the table with a morning newspaper
Cup of coffee, slice of toast;
Bland everydayness over and over again

Damn you England and your lack of seasons!
Yet , I cannot live anywhere else –
The Continent smells of Death and Resurrection.
Everydayness it is then, Amen.

smoking girl

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A chewing gum

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My feet are crying

To go out and walk in the parkillustration-lonely-figure

My hands are crying

To go out and hold other hands

My neck is crying

It wants to go out and be covered with kisses

But it will not happen tonight

So there’s no point in crying

It will not happen tomorrow either

I AM A CHEWING GUM SPAT OUT AND STUCK TO A SHOESOLE