Sound of sirens

Someone is parked outside the house, music playing beneath the wail of a distant siren. Night time in South London and Streatham never sleeps … But I must. The sigh of a passing car. The murmur of distant trafic. And a fresh breeze that rustles the trees before trickling over the windowsill and into the room. There’s a car outside the house. Sent from my BlackBerry?? wireless device

The Pleasure of Dislocation

Saw this as I left the workshop with Nick. It was raining and he had a cape and my head was bare.

The downpipe
Dislocated from the gutter
Cupping raindrops

We saw it and had to ride back to take another look. We rode on and had a second epiphany when a young woman came out to pop something in the dustbin and a gust of wind gently raised her dress into a perfect umbrella floating above a pair of skimpy black briefs. Dislocation: Such are the pleasures of a simple man!
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