Coming to terms

The curtains are opened and the light
such as it is at this ungodly hour
stitches lines across the ceiling.
Last night I dreamt in Nomad
(which is like technicolour
but not quite as bad)
and I wandered through
where sunshine goes when
it’s tired
last night was wired to an
electric fence
(note the use of past tense,
I am still learning)
Today drops its weight on me
atmospheric pressure compresses me
I can’t stand anymore,
Sod Newton and sod his law.
bellowed someone from the china shop
on China street
seconds away from China town
in an old dressing gown I stood and
picked fluff from my ears,
years ago I would have replied
years ago I was young
now I’m just cranky.

© 2017, John Smallshaw.