Saturday, 1 May 2010


I've not played my guitar
for weeks now
and I'm seeing sweat beads,
as if picking it up
it'd seem

foreign to me,
like an old friend
cast in a new light.
But old friends
are old friends
and this old friend
sings so sweetly;

the flavour never goes -
hits me in the back of
the throat
like candied thunder.

When I pick you up,
what satisfaction.

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