The Grinning Years. Lindsay Camp and Roger Williams
A flavour of The Grinning Years

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To do

Two things I need to do today:
Buy a fridge and write a poem.

The fridge we need because the one we have is old,
It whines, there’s rust around the door, it fails to keep things cold.
I have the catalogues, I plan to look in Which?
And find the facts I’ll need to measure fridge with fridge,
To gauge how one stacks up against another,
To take into account not just capacity but colour,
Advanced design, aesthetics, style.
I think it’s going to take a while.

The poem?
It looks as if the poem will have to wait.

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We talk in tongues and deal in meanings
Floors and walls and sometimes ceilings
Simple needs and complex feelings
Surfacing the mystic

I kiss your back

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Death in a hotel room

The excitement of travel, the pull of the road
Pack a case, and shed a load
Past the point where faith explodes
And I should die in a hotel room
Miles and miles from home

Shut the door and live your dreams
And wonder what Dry Riser means
The mockery of company loyalty schemes
Each night I die in a hotel room
Miles and miles from home

The etiquette of phoning home
The sense of: I am myself alone
Mind on fire and heart of stone
What else dies in a hotel room
A million miles from home?

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