Lord of the Harry Potter. Another trilogy

is like getting caught washing up at four in the morning by the partner of friend, 
the conversation bypassing all formality-
good-morning-
then the expected question,
coffee or tea,
and/or cigarettes,
let's rest and talk until dawnlight plough has pulled day into place,
two hard sleepers who never cared to wink sitting face to foot,
stretched out, 
fresh flour cushions sat above heavy breath chests and cold forearms.
Empty wood silence, hummed car crash too far away to save.

Your dried eyes looked like they wanted to ask
what they fuck and why
to the question
where did they get to?
Always repeat things because next time they'll owe you,
we shouldn't have trusted them,
erase them from the book of expectation,
track back through equation with detectors set to pot-hole.

What does it take for something to become part of your five a day:
coffee,
sofa,
same shoes and bed,
rainy day hen party showers
because some of us have to cleanse daily,
pass the crown and shot glass.