Nicola Hitchcock Surf On Shingle
Today it was my birthday and the postman never came
My radio alarm was set at p.m. yet again
As I walked out the door I left the keys on the inside
It wasn’t til I came home in the cold and dark I realised
No money in the meter for the gas to light the fire
I see you
Surf on shingle
Ice down the back of the neck
Water and earth
Rebirth
I met a friend last night and left my wallet on the bar
In multi-storey car parks I can never find my car
wash in wash out It said and now I’m permanently red
I fancied toast this morning but I hadn’t any bread
And if I had any sense I would’ve spent today in bed