Someone is shouting. What's the matter? Why are they shouting? Oh, its cyclists riding two abreast. As they pass into and out of earshot I hear;
...THEN YOU COAT IT IN SEASONED FLOUR...
...LIKE NORMAL PUTTY BUT KIND OF...
...I KNOW HIS SISTER SHE'S...
...DOING THAT THING WITH FRUIT FLIES...
...YOU KNOW LIKE A VEST WITH SLEEVES...
...NOT POLISH BUT SORT OF POLISH...
...3 OR 4 OR 5. BUT NOT 8! NO WAY....
...NOT THAT MATT ANOTHER MATT HE'S...
...I COULDN'T BELIEVE HIS NECK IT WAS...
1 comment:
This sounds like the beginnings of some avant garde poem. You might be on to something!
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