vulture town

4

Getting to help stitch up a cheetah @ethicaltaxidermy is mounting for the Booth Museum! This cheetah died of abscess in her spine and jaw back in 1980, and has been sitting in a barrel in the museum ever since. Her skin is tough and brittle, as she is been in formaldehyde for 30 years - but she is looking good. So very soft too.

#240

(SON, YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE)

one beleaguered foot before the other // going round on a screen: sleep follows sleep, work follows work, walking follows walking // oil-rainbowed puddles remind me of holes in my shoes, this pain in my back reminds me of the community of years // (but I’ve been drinking more water recently! I was led to believe I was immortal now!) // every day: the insipid rain, the calculated weariness, the absence of desire // forty-seven minutes to murder before the bus

(SON, YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE)

the vacant faces of empty shops // ground round in circles: survey vultures with clipboards, a town peopled in grey, grey smiles betrayed grey lives under grey skies // there is a secret colour, reserved for those who do not meet their weekends with work // ghost-like and grey, I gather my thoughts like hopeful prospector, as double-shifted gravedigger // I want to dream of more than sleep // I want to look forward // (not to anything in particular, just not over my shoulder, wondering if it’s spelled prey or pray) // every day: a slightly deeper chest cavity, a new configuration of knot, a new way to say goodbye // thirty-one minutes to murder before the bus

(SON, YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE)