fifteen day sleeping tour of the north coast

relieves your fixations, prices slashed even further –

parties, exhibitions, murrumbidgee dried fruit

now open to the public, decades of tattoos

on euston road & a jeep wrangler abandoned on the footpath.

from here the country's just a shimmy away,

that drone you can't clear from the microphone

& a pipeband playing scotland the brave.

later still it's the bedsit thing, all kitchen sink drama,

no woodchips & six dollar pasta

across the street from the neighbourhood centre,

corners & intersections & recycled kisses,

your feelings reconfigured like a frankenscience project,

iterative heart & useful things to think about,

comfortably dissociated, scrawny chicken bits dangling

beneath your t-shirt, the performative redundancy

desire amounts to, like a body surfer,

staggering up the beach with a mouthful of sand