Still Life with Super Noodles

 

Sitting in silky jim-jams
With an exquisite Cabernet,
I make believe I am a young man,
The innocent of yesterday.
The drawing room becomes a TARDIS.
My ponceyness melts into nothingness.
I am transported to a time and place
Less syrupy, swish, salubrious...

We're watching Wes Craven's "Shocker" through powdery smoke -
Me and the guvnor, a most superlative bloke,
An Edwardian man about town in greying dressing gown.
I pass on the Jack Daniel's and try not to drown.
I plug into the rhythms of the Nottingham night.
The carpet yields up Mondrian patterns, dancing with delight.
Foil takeaway trays fill up with fag butts and ash.
"Skilled" Hans with his rolling mat, manipulates the stash.

Like Christopher Mayhew on Panorama
Or going on a bender with Robert Palmer,
Time loses all meaning - The Beyond Within,
Not awake but not dreaming.
In the fluorescent kitchen
The young boy that I can see
Turns around and it's me,
Sent ahead by the auld lad
To scale the teabag mountain.
"Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind."
Thank you Noel Harrison...

B.R. 11/09/2013