#2,615 Crowborough

~ mikebellwrites

This is that fair opposite of
a breeding ground – this is
where auld folk huddle [&
fear choking on nuts] – any
moment any one of them –
& me – could be caught out
by a mis-channeled gulp of
cafeteria-bought fare – This
is a Waitrose cafe in a town
gripped by fears of foreign
invaders on a shore twenty
miles-ish south – muffled in
scarves & thermal garb this
is that bug-eyed electorate
that dictates from podiums
quiet hate [Tory hinterland
is defined – bitterly settled]