We look out to black
no moon
no stars in the sky
nothing to steer by
there is
only the darkness.

I was thinking of the Potomac,
of
Kerouac
of looking back
so
I lit a lucky strike
to tame the night
like
anything could do that.

It's just foreplay
which is a mainstay
for the next thing to
come along,
like fashion really
you're out of it
or in,
no
middle ground
to fiddle around with.

for me
it's always field craft
or space craft,
daft I know, but
the orbits arouse the muse in me
confuse the man in me and
I am a boy again
with
a
'Magic Robot'