Get Laid By The Gin


From this telegraph watch tower, paths
seem short. Cow Hill seems small.
All of the borough seems like a resort;
swimming pool, gym, shop and gin. Buy the gin -
drink the gin – get laid by the gin. 

Maps and compasses don’t work when
looking for something still hidden.
Double A, in fact, triple A batteries
won’t make any torch brighter,
because cigarette lighters are far more fun for this journey.

You can walk longer that any
green diamond, distant line, past
ridges that descend at a nerving decline.
And inside hat and head you’ll preach,
‘Forever the ridge we’ll never reach’.