From the chimes of salsa playing out of a somewhat disheveled speaker
to the bongs and bangs of a local spoons.
"What you saying, film night?"
A retiree suggests as he himself sways among
a rather mock-extravagant carpet.
The thought of a few grown men sitting around the Tele in any sort of regular capacity is an endearing one.
Another re-watch of an old western or Kung Fu dvd
that has got pint glass rings printed onto it seems to be round the corner.
I might even watch a film now.
Not with the three gentlemen, although that could be a good story.
Tinny phone speakers play out the beckons of a football commentator,
another person on a grass pitch has kicked a ball in the right direction,
it's what it really boils down to.
Although everything can be simmered down to it's most basic - what's the fun in that?
Romanticise everything I say.
Or at least almost everything.
A man peels off his high Vis jacket as he steps into the pub,
perhaps a late commute home from the office?
I hardly think he's just clocked off from another shift as a lolly pop lady.
I guess he'd be called a lolly pop person these days.
Lolly Pop ladies must have a strong sense of fulfillment,
protecting future generations on a day-to-day basis.
I regret my choice of seat,
The constant waff of urinal cakes are not aiding this semi-satisfactory Guinness.
I'll probably leave in 10.
Some of my best thoughts take place on trains.
That's not to say I can't think anywhere else.
Words come easier when you're not rooted to one spot.
A harmony with my ever changing mind.
I just saw a tractor going abouts it day.
The tractor doesn't care about what nikes are on the shelf,
but should it?
I'd be more keen to purchase one of it came with a sick pair of trainers attached the bottom,
then again I'm not the target market,
Nor could I afford one.
I was in a park yesterday and heard the wind rushing through the trees.
psithurism.
I had to Google that. I saw it on a tote back once,
Isn't that sad.
That snapshot in time was the most peaceful I'd felt that weekend,
gazing at the murky canal waters only gave me a minor snippet of that feeling.
I passed Stocky P
No one calls it that apparently,
a missed opportunity if you ask me.
Everything is better in life if you make it rhyme.
Not literally everything, especially not crime.
You see?
We're stopping at Crewe now,
I wonder what the charity shops are like.
Books rich with local history or live laugh love pillows,
Either would do at this point.
This train isn't as fun now that's it's stationary,
my thoughts are slowing down.
London Euston inbound,
Suitcase wheels against the ground,
people turning their head around...
I should stop now.
"How's it holding up" asked the snail.
"Can't you tell?"
"Not really, I'm a snail"
"You don't say"
"I don't like to race to conclusions either"
"Makes sense, guess we're not cut from the same cloth"
"What do you mean?"
"Suppose things are just a bit slower down here"
"Maybe because there's less of a breeze?"
"Yeh, but also I don't constantly feel like I'm hanging on by a thread"
"Must be nice"
"Why'd you say that?" asked the Peg in return.
"Feel like I've always got the weight of the world on my shoulders."
"You don't say, what's the mortgage on that thing anyway?"
"Mortgage?"
"Nevermind. How're things back at home?"
"Alright, just trying to balance it all is getting quite difficult."
"Are you taking the mick?"
"My life does feel like a joke at the moment"
"Feel like you're being hung out to dry?"
"Exactly, not like I've got eyes on the back of my head"
"I hear you."
The two continued to talk for the next few hours, wooden smiles slowly extending across their faces.
: thoughts on footwear and fleeting poems
wear shoes, write poems 