bizarrely
I attempt a soft detox
when an Irish nurse
who talks so visually
rings on my telephone
she is telling me
YOU GOT TO HAVE
SOMETHING
OF AN EVENING.
she uses old words
like PALS TUMMY GRUMPY
etc.
her black hair goes all the way down her small back
to her small arsehole.
so
bizarrely
I follow medical advice
fill myself with vodka
and I play N Cave
or M Ronson
on the suffering juke box
loud as a party.
silently on TV
J Nicholson
is raging with an awesome scorn
at K Bacon.
I know then
that detox can hold few delights.
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