If I lose track of the track
play the Beatles,
‘Get back’
I’m back on the right track
a dip through the light shack
where I once belonged.
‘Lola’
was the King and Queen
sat on turquoise
a harlequin,
chinks in his armour
‘Kinks’
in her hair
it’s always
‘Dead end street’
somewhere.
I lose the plot
quite a lot these days,
the music plays
in stereo
can’t get away
nowhere to go
trapped by the ‘ slow hand’
in
Clapton’s Pond.
© 2016, John Smallshaw.
