My clothes on radiators, window mist
The rain we hate but need spoils selfish fun
The floor a magnet for dirt, hair, food, dust
No wonder the flat sale’s gone flat; no-one
Wants that. Plates placed for lunch at half-past one
By her below. It’s not just me then, in
A gloomy box. This room of socks all hung
In to dry, before I get wet walking
To work in them next week. My poor leaking
Umbrella, I miss you. Since you were lost
Last week on that pub floor, I’ve been pissed on
Persistently, tubfuls poured, kitchen sinks
Cats, dogs keep falling on my head. Hood fixed
On my new black anorak - bring it on!
Sun 29 June 2008
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