Spitfire ale: how Kentish
(Wednesday has become pub night)
how, by an almost complete avoidance
the matter of . . . .
those who would spell it out
the matter of England? Wossa matter?
the shadow of a football spinning from a knee
what would youth be like? I mean
how ironic are they? who look just like
I looked, are full, undeniably
of the same self-importance (mine, I suspect,
the more naïve)? I would love that sense
of centrality, of things being within my reach.