Ashes To Ashes is playing from the other room,
part of a greatest hits affair.
It’s consolidated and cheaper for now,
as I log in to internet banking, again,
not that I’d ever forget the balance, slants,
like I did Reno’s Pizza Place, old Barnet
at the foot of a steep hill until
yesterday’s business trip home sped past
dragging cabin day dreams of old neighbours,
school faces and bus stops, a short itch from
where I am now, five years on from smokey
car park evenings,
the long, slow, dim Saturday checkout shifts,
church spires turned commerce and
distant fields sectioning concrete and sky,
tempting me to spend a day re-tredding history
like I’m seventy and dying, perhaps for belonging,
whilst I’m not, just ticking towards tonight’s plan,
thinking a trip down Mays Lane will have better impact
if I first live further away, entirely forgetful of its bumps.