Albion, Art, Trickster

Scraps…

***

Mog… And his brother… In his brother’s Capri… Actually made it to Crossley’s Bridge… On the Night of White… Which means that… On a snow free day… They would have been… Five minutes away… Their next landmark… Would have been The Windmill… Five minutes from bliss!… Five minutes from death… More like… Gramps was adamant… When getting the train was vaunted… He’d seen proper weather… In his time… And knew… Only too well… That it could kill… Front row seats… Though!… Front row seats!… A little like trading… A holiday flight abroad… For a fatal blood clot… Perhaps?

***

Dez’s family traded their promenade hotel… For a fish… And chip shop… Which is a pity… For the flats above the bar… Looked out over the sea… And offered… The best night’s sleep… Imaginable… Replete with sea horses… Mind… Liquidity… Apparently… Cash flowing… Rather than being… Tied up… In stock… All of which… Is fine… But much less romantic… On our Old Romantics shot… Bob resembles his dad… Marty’s dad died… Aged fifty-three years… Which is no age at all… Mick Karn died at fifty-two… Fad Gadget at Forty-five… First support band better than the headline… R.I.P Fad… And Mick.

***

When will we stand up… And shout… This is not my beautiful house!… They stole it from under our nose… Before we knew we had a nose… It was all over by Seventy-One… Gramps bequeathed his first new penny… Smaller and lighter… Than the old one… The first step… Along the way… To nothingness… It was… Worth nothing… Long before… It actually became nothing… It was always nothing… Not even a leaf… Blown by the breeze which… Once grew from a tree… Ian Curtis’ Digital… Suddenly seems unnaturally prophetic… Like he’s been given it… In a dream… Which was actually… A nightmare.

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