Tuesday, 14 February 2012

Monday Strange

Morning rings its black-tired alarms. Everything Monday strange. Space sounds
in the dark until we get some snooze-button discipline. Go along the sleeping stairs.
Try not to wake them. To trigger the troll that lives under them. Long-johns
are the new rock and roll. All the hip old men round here are wearing them.
A pair of bald shoes snore on the step as white dust gathers in grey corners.

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