This town

I don't know this town
Grey streets, pink people,
No alternatives.
Everyone's got a van (except me)
I'm desperately seeking...
...coffee
Macchiato, y'wha?
I'm drowning in a sea of tea,
Stained like old brown paper, like old men's skin.
I don't know this town,
Clearance carpet corner
Members only clubs that still smell of smoke
And cheap vodka pints.
Or hair today, gone tomorrow
I don't think so.


Bethan Townsend

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