escher poetry — [γ]

i rode the one road
on my badly chosen bicycle
imagining i was driving a bus

i drank my first beer
on that bicycle
it was horrible

i wheeled down a hill
refused to brake
and fell off

was found unconcious
by strangers
who drove me home

every school morning
i caught a bus

waiting
i made my first music

a village girl
crushed on me

regrettably
it was one way

i left at 18
i’ve only been back

to shake the occasional doorstep
to stare at windowsills

it’s hardly changed
but now

that road
where i spilt my first blood

is to become
tea box twee

the preserved
nice bit

in milton template
the new town

the only village thing
that’s mine
is memory

i have no right to intercede
but i do have the right

to blues
a sad song

woke up this morning
saw change was wearing
looters’ boots