The Mulberry Bush

Altercation on the avenue. Police v Immigrant. They hunt in packs like hyenas. "Go home!" Eyes black. What gives you the right? Maggot in a petri dish.

Who was that on the door? Wasn't even going into shop. Faint trill of recognition. Past.

Hospital gave me a sore head. Yellow paint pealed off the building like a tumor. The smell. Human animal. Naked.

Bit more ordinary with the glasses on. Lights came on behind. City obscured by cloud. Cars, lights. Asleep in the rush hour.

Then the tears. The embrace of two swans on a frozen lake. A life shared. Corridors upon corridors. Expanse of memory. The black and white wedding photo on the mantelpiece.

Nurse! Nurse! Constant, soft like he wasn't sure who was speaking, or why. Blue eyes of life on a body of death. And then the scream. What was he seeing?

Terrifying for reality to be pulled out from beneath your feet like a carpet. The precipice
beckons. Closed over eye in the corner. Some sense of humour. Moments of existence culminate. In what?

Funny to be in this bright coffee shop. All these people. Lips moving. What are they talking about? Do they even know themselves? Some joke alright.

Laughter from down the hallway. Ever step outside. Watch from afar.

I woke up and saw a kestrel perched on the wire. In the kitchen it floated across the field. I see my reflection in the mirror as I write. Green shoes - purple t shirt. Ashtray sits. Buses go past in the darkness. Music jangles irritatingly. What to do?

Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush. Here we go round the mulberry bush, early in the morning.