Trying to pull my thoughts in
from the shivers down my spine,
getting it together one more time.
And so I rose
blew my nose
did what risers do,
just trying to get through
The paperboy who’s sixty-eight years old
whistled far too gaily as he shoved my
through the letterbox,
everything’s a niggle when you’re trying to
get a wiggle on or trying to pull your thoughts
in from the shivers down your spine.
© 2020, John Smallshaw.