Robert Verdon, #356, sprawled waking

an old hessian sky stretches

over the beer garden city

knuckled buses rattle amid the saucer trees

under kedgeree rainbows each wet morning

gruel crowds lap at each shuttered restaurant

skyscrapers upright slabs of mouldy bread

against the endless blue distance

round the red vinous lake,

the glands of the city which never ache

while the brain tower looms

young athletes splash purposefully through mirrors

on their way to pointless work

the tram squeals and a squall gets off and on

while a young puppy relieves itself in fear

a slick photographer shoots it all

working for the local rag,

pretending to be homeless