Home James, but it takes a while for the writing to catch up with me.

Another half-poem, slightly beyond notes and likely to change dramatically and be re-posted - but at least it's something!


Some men in Yorkshire, drinking.

Your mishap of company does not feel easy
though you're wearing the same jumper, a multi-
limbed expression of pints and pastel blue.
It's only the closeness of your heads when you sleep
that makes this a regularity - you come here
for the burgers and order them one by one; you
rub your half-shaved faces when deciding. You all
pinched my bum in my glass-collecting days, or
were caught shagging quickly on the back stairs once:
you are all wearing jeans. And what if I'm right?
From the corner of my eye here, it's enough.