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     the cabin

                bacon-burger bar

     blumbered from the
          crackly radio

     flat fried eggs
     blupped onto the bonnet
     from the tree-lamps
     down the middle of the motorway

     and as the spikey-fine
          fir trees
     flinked some
          white silliness
     into my piping-hot tea –

     “Whappo” said the
          tatty tyres
     slapping the tarmac

     over the hills and far away





part of >>> through the crash
dawn wormhole: lifetime
divorce wormhole: midnight
fir wormhole: 1967
motorway & passing wormhole: clown
radio wormhole: comicbook morning
tea wormhole: a cup of tea
trees wormhole: winter / weeks