You think I’m suburban

with my butter dish

and your forward shoes


Smiling too much

Talking air to your fire

My horizon close and grey


A teatowel ironed

to shine your creative windows

Reduxing my sub

with every schoolgirl grope for cred


Do I counter-think to defend my honour

and with spiky precision

poke out the risible

in your uber schtick


Or do I learn from you

and with stealth

paint my rainbow

in your colours


No need for either


The things for which I ache

live somewhere over it

in a place where

we both would meet


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Filed under London Mumbo, Mumbo Life, Mumbo poems, Uncategorized

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