& this is not love

waking up in a cold room

in a cold house

& there was an afghan hound she had

that I never saw

& a child much the same

gone to school

or away at granny’s

I was there

two weeks maybe a bit more

& I never quite knew how I got there

just woke up one morning

in a cold room in a cold house

sleeping with a woman whose face

name I can never now quite recall

it wasn’t the drink I hadn’t the money

though there were smoke’ables all round

& at the end of a long night

we’d go to bed do the things

wake up alone again in the cold room

she didn’t like my music nor I hers

hated my poems couldn’t see the point

suggested I go get a hard work job

like this one ain’t

& after a fortnight of disagreement

she got an old friend to come over

take my cold ass away

& that was not love

sex

friendship

or anything

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