I am on a long-bet flood plain
An elevated gravel path leads
beside pumpkin-cut grimaces
Eight grin-lit detached houses
bid shameless sharp views of

rooms & rooms & rooms [It is
too early to draw our curtains!]
& I walk [spectral] below sight
lines of slipped lounge lizards
on an orbit back to my ghost’s

town / Not much has changed
[apart from rain] in my scarcity
Troop-hoofed paths capitulate
to further boot tracks – to trails
of dogs & bikes / There’s more

rain on its way! / Amber flashes
heighten concerns for riverside
mortgagees [reviling long bets]
Here pebbles melt into grass &
a playing field – untouchable to

kids at this time of year – now a
playground [of sorts] for nosing
dogs & their equally dull owners
[my tribe of lead & turd carriers]
A hill rise – between doped rides

of swings & slides – then there is
my grey Ex-wife – I pray she can’t
see me – but prayers never work
on side-raining days – & my plea
is unanswered as she raises her

voice as if to her dog [but to me]
& I’ll vomit [spew?] all her letters
back at her – spit – no matter how
wet it makes her [Love is a route
to hatred – if your lover lives a lie]

There are no wagers now for our
solicitors or mediators to pursue
My climb finds me sitting – a rest
as my dog runs rings around her
bitch – I’ll call & she’ll return – see?