Friday 18 January 2013

OLD PHOTOS



the 1940s are small pictures shedding skin in shades of brown  
old names
printed on the back in faded fountain pen ink
with strange printed E's and G's

they stand posed like a line of brown toads
in cricket clothes
with big ears
and hawk noses
in carpet trousers pulled up to here

their old stories of dream bungalow estates 
ramble on to West End homos
and 
they
live by catalogues of slacks and brown plastic attachments

the survivors are smaller than their pictures
their eyes have developed a wet twinkle with time

soon they will lie under blue tarpaulin in tin boxes
and
take a dumb-porter ride
past my office
where 
eat 
toast
and think - i want to buy new brown trainers 
            for them 
            to be burnt in







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