Last Week I Was Just Someone Who

It Takes A Lot Of Energy And Creativity To Make Such Screwed Up Lives Carry On. And The Kind Of Will People Have To Survive, Year After Year, Dealing With That Stuff, Is Weirdly Impressive.

She Wonders If You Can Feel Nostalgic For Something Before It's In The Past, She Wonders If Perhaps Her Vocabulary Is Too Small Or If Her Chemical Intake Has Corroded It And The Music Goes Doowoah Doowoah.

He Says When Your Grandmother Died Your Mother Cried Solidly For A Week, Solidly. She Was Crying With Relief He Says, It Was Like As If A Door Had Been Unlocked And She'd Been Let Outside, She Said To Me I'm Safe Now. He Waits, And He Says This Kid, When It's Born, You Mustn't Ever Let It Think It's Anything Other Than A Gift And A Blessing, Do You Hear Me?

It Is Something I Recognise In Myself. I Do Eavesdrop. I Do People-watch, A Lot.

I Once Saw A Picture In The Paper Of John Hegley With 'poet' Written On His Knuckles, And I Thought That Was Pretty Cool, So I Was Quite Up Front About It.