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Thursday, 25 May 2017

Blackpool Blues...

Drifting off kaleidoscoping into dreams
with ever increasing decreasing patterns
The orchids wave gently in the artificial air
Waking from a deep sleep I start to communicate
like a mad thing my eyes the size of saucers
My dentures clamped tightly to my tongue
After dark my teeth begin to chatter
By the next day there’s no stopping me
I’m talking for Blackpool barking up the tower
Signing copies of someone else’s book

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