Blackbirds backwards
and your solid foil to my boiling yawn
is remembered

I’ll always love you my dude

even though it’s mostly memory now
we travelled odd eighties early nineties
hinterlands
full of clear stupidities and hidden
immutable truths

but I’ll always hold
ridiculous dry heated cricket pitches,
run dark *** and loose joints
as what drove us

“What should we do today?”
“I dunno”