Poem: Lanky Call-out of Outside Projects

 

Unbeknown to glibbing buyers,

these back-to-back ploys are simply borne

from a fundamental lack of smarts

that borrow-purloin nay border on

a fallow thinking instead of a cause,

 

no retiring flowers and Aldi walks.

When vinyl’s broke out so parties spawn

familial rapture, pull back the sofa,

stick Transmat twelves by the radiator

prop up the laser and centre the pitch,

appeal to tired years, feet dulled by concrete,

herding to partick others still fogged

 

in that hangered hunger for selfie shows.

It’s back to back, the thusk hour rolls

to serve up keffel by the score,

a chang of kerching from the ones and twos,

the sound of the metapacking gradual grind

to Sasha’d contracts; we live in hard times.

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