IN A BUNGALOW NOTHINGS FAR

worried by every ESSENTIAL cigarette/my hands roll them

whatever

I

think.

and anyway - the booze

LORD

it

floooows

a bloated river – ice crammed

into

stuffed tumblers - gin takes

minutes

to trickle to the bottom.

hanyway I read somewhere something written by someone

that

said

NEVER TAKE THE BOTTLE INTO THE BEDROOM.

          fair dos mr fair dos

but

I keep getting up again and going into the kitchen thirsty

and

in

a

bungalow nothing is far

but mr

I knows what you means.