days of wander

thumb in the wind

hitching 200 miles

go see if the ‘rents were in

could handle my face

hard rides of wandering hands

offers to suck my cock

pay to see it please

occasionally women

wanting to feed

take me home mother me

endless moments of

here will be fine drop offs

middle of nowhere

where even the horses stare

walking walking

in the rain the snow

sunshine days not caring

stopping to write thoughts ideas

slip slide the mask of bum

be the writer poet troubadour

until the world turned again

finding them not home

or no welcome today

walk out of there

begin the return journey

no shelter no love no feed

no recognition of journeys made

wishes hopes dreams left there

my only salvation the road

ass leading the burro

late Saturday

there in the sun

& I was dry still

from the night before

leading kids on donkeys

trying not to look

like some kind of bum

round & round on fading grass

hoping something might happen

clap of thunder

rainfall to come

& as much as I willed it

none of that

came to pass put me

in front of a cold glass

tell me the daddy said

do you know the name

of this donkey?

er no I said

but the Spanish for ass

is Burro

so lets call her that

& off we went round & round

the ass leading the burro

the poor always pay more

sometime around midnight

I couldn’t drive no more

pulled into an industrial estate

put the seats down low

wrapped a thin blanket on

closed my eyes feeling the dry

& just as the black swept in

yappy! yappy! coming closer

fading dopplering away

yappee! yappee!

then yappeeee!

close in to the window

I opened it a crack

woss the problem?

I’ve lost my little dog she said

her looking in all around

haven’t seen it I said

to her disappointed face

I just need to sleep some

then I’ll be gone

& she went on her way

satisfied she’d sounded out

the vagabond the bum

maybe burglar

sleep disturbed wondering

FFS who loses a dog

on an industrial estate

past midnight on a Saturday

anyway?

November brings changes

we were sitting on my hill

backs against a log

feet facing downhill to the fire

watching the last of the big logs burn down

my neighbour was sucking on another pint of my whisky

staring into the flames

I sighed some man its good to do this

the job has been driving me crazy I need to leave

he said nothing kept guzzling

& if I do that then all this may have to go….

looking around the black wide open sky

oh jeez fella you are so mawkish at times

y’are really bringing me down he moaned

I looked over watching him warm his bones

drinking my booze there at my fire

& suddenly he was right

the mawkish mood was gone

I’d be pleased to leave

this freeloading bum behind