thoughts on the unnamed narrator


who is the unnamed narrator

of nearly all stories & tales

      that ever have been told

      – they must be very old

or live outside of time

in some pocket universe

      in a terraced house

      with three cats & a goldfish

maybe their name is constantine

mike perhaps or julie

      they probably smoke a pipe

      & wash behind both ears

i bet they drive an audi

& dabble in taxidermy

      they may well play the bagpipes

      & grow their own begonias

there’s no way that they’re ginger

for fuck’s sake – that’s impossible

      or keep their eggs in the fridge

      next to their cucumbers

i do hear they bake flapjack

& skim stones on a sunday

      upon the lakes & ponds

      around the back of everywhere

( ? )

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