Car park Sunday Afternoon-20.08.22

The moustached ghost of Bart Boyce waves 

in the car park

Waves and gives big smile.  

knowing glance at the pink spider who’s navigating gravel in 4-inch pumps cursing in Slavic

or

suggesting exciting new ways to violate her?

David Bowie on the jukebox inside (we could be heroes)

I will send him poems about the blues, junkie women, and longing for that which cannot be named

Bart laughing 

 will give love to the blue St Jill

betwixt living and dead

Sunday afternoon