A rebel without a clue.

Two hours out with Lola and The Demon Dog Then measuring life in espresso cups One sugar and a glass of ice cold water. Watching them participate banally, Barren dream, waiting for 'it' to happen. Tramping over Barleyfields Along the Ginnel onto Westgate Left by the Town Hall Onto the Market Place Ready to scream (like Edvard Munch) A wasp lingers to sting Puncturing a deflating sack Which connects nothing But frowns melancholic, Asking, Can you pass the poison?

Top floor, overlooking Top dog, basking. My feet end His majestic head begins And I feel protected. Happy eyes blink up, As he balances sleepy, Knowingly reciprocated The safety spread Universal. Such a happy lad Sleeping at the foot of the bed The sound of a sleeping hound Is a pleasure to be had. Looking up for a morning cuddle He's so sweet being there With love spreading inwards And onwards, intertwined. A cup of coffee, watching North Street come alive preparing for a day By his side until he stretches. Then, locking tight, We go to meander Before traffic overwhelms Or the day sweats us