At 6 A.M. the day started with an obscure
Eastern Bloc animation of sad animals
finding the spirit of the season through solidarity,
then by running fingers down the listed joys
of the Radio Times
I found it perfectly possible to navigate a day
from a hole in the sofa, subsisting on nuts,
as familiar celebrities made Christmas **** of themselves

Head resting on the cold glass,
the bus streams a show
of tired towns and spent countryside,
my oh-so-worldly heart
beats through paper thin sophistication
anticipating mum and dad
with all the missing love
that for a forgotten moment
makes the *****, vaulted ceiling
of the station resound