somewhere you went from being that somebody
to a body
all those years of
ruling in the tower in the city a feature
the one in everybody’s bed white sheets you graced would
cradle half the coast
it was the
sixties you said everything
was relative words too close to truth for comfortable pause
see the
tidal wave of memories
washed from mind release
that shore let the amyloidal
plaque be the strangest of
the graces
let a waltz follow the polka sweep the pick-up sticks to corners
to be sculptures installations flanked by dissertation
and the punters hands hard-down
as handcuffs at the
rear
bring on in the
eye-rolls with the curtains
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