The 7th of July 1972 – Pinner, Middlesex

(found by a pair of shoes)

My head’s been spinning Trudy, spinning and it won’t stop.

The rug’s been pulled out. The earth quakes. The sidewalk has been split in two, and a chasm has appeared, and a thousand demons from the depths of hell are spilling out into the streets. I can barely get a straight look ahead of me. My head’s just been spinning. Spinning nonstop.

Is this the same voice I’ve always used? Are all my voices running together? What happened to the high-pitched one and the low-pitched one or have they all gotten spun together into one indistinguishable mass of gelatin and guts?

What happened to the songs we sang? Or is the guitar you used to play broken once and for all and forever? Do my ears work anymore or have the gremlins broken into my bedroom in the middle of the night to poke holes in my eardrums and make me go deaf?

Hasn’t it been lovely this summer? The heat is nice a dry. What a treat!

My feet. I swear they’re off the ground. I swear that, as I walk, my feet – the soles of my feet and the pads of my toes et cetera, et cetera – I swear that they do not touch the ground.

Oh, I’m wearing shoes.

Send my best hat.




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