Half an hour from Euston and already
The sun, it seems, has travelled far enough,
Preferring the mutable palette of the Thames-
Artful with rooftops and the sides of towers,
Slick in the City, idle in Green Park.
It's odd and a bit depressing, this going North-
Though it's where I started - when I had my health,
And didn't smoke, drank mainly at weekends,
And slept with my first boy.
In Stalybridge-
My mother's town, half urban, half serene
With factory woods and desolate canals-
A paradise of walks and nice old pubs,
Newt-fishing and the yammering of birds-
And, how could I forget, that bloody school.
...