Staggering: Tuesday 11am
Posted by
Mikey Marlin
I cannot see the cows gossiping in the fields of middle England
though I know they must be there
I did not see Mrs Heineken fall with her shopping under a double-
decker bus
oranges make a get-away
I cannot see students staggering from another blinding Top B
smiling at the memory
of innumerable sips and Freudian slips.
I cannot see. This cannot be.
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Open your eyes
look up to the skies and sea:
the octopus a veritable God in his octagonal shrine
like Elizabeth 2 only friendlier – less over-bitten, fine –
a kindly fish, a dish of a young prince in brine
a media fish dish with chips on broad shoulders like mine.
Feed me. Feed me. Feed me wine.
Spirits
of the time, I am a chemical monument to the zeitgeist
in the octopus’s garden, shelled.
Be ‘ere
by my side, do not judge – I remember not what I do –
do not categorise, sentence,
rebuke
but remember me, fetch water as I curl up
in a puddle of my puke..
*With apologies to the Beatles, Queen and the Queen
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