I went via London on my way back to Manchester and wrote these two small stones.
I have forgotten a make up mirror, cursing the moonshape I left behind. Egged on by Siouxsie Sioux in my head phones I ring my eyes with black reflected in the train window before we reach the city, hope not to shock at the other end.
A beautiful stone woman sits on the tube two snakes have swallowed her feet and ankles. I am cloaked bat like wings pinned by a rucksack. Handsome young men tweak elaborate fringes I pass Wimbledon or one of them with a womble in my raspberry sorbet luggage. I buy coloured ink cartridges in a shop filled with tube map printed everything with the knowledge I will never use the yellow ones. I reach the Manchester train and find as usual it has to many closed first class vertebrae