This picture is part of a series on living alone.
I photogrpahed bed-sits, Launderettes etc in order to get some ideas for a series of poems.
This piece was written in one take whilst just flashing back to the launderette.
It is not necassarily finished, final or complete.

He finally missed home , hypnotic

clockwise rolled the steel hum
scrunched on the bench
missing the mum
who tended to such trivia
here...

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Weather Pig sways lazily,

peering from the roof.

He stares at windy Wales

with teardrops in his eyes.

Of course he faces windward

as he does throughout the year,

but now his task is tearful.

Piggy Belle is dead.

Guard Pig lies at duty

by the front door, as he must.

His task to pee on Mormons,

bite balls off burglar thugs.

He is is lax about his duties,

though always at his ...

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