…

while the wise crow flies

in zig-zag directions

while onion dicers weep

& the resting dough expands

while the soap star dies

& the stunt man explodes

while occasional tables

pretend that they’re a chair

while your air guitar

gently plucks a scale &

while the curate’s egg

is scrambled for your breakfast

while temporary bus stops

disappear from here again

i’ll write another postcard

to your uncle rose in scunthorpe

…