I really like this Peter. I'm tempted to cut the last stanza, as your
workshop had indicated, for the suspense it gives the whole poem. In which
light, I'd perhaps want to cut or completely rewrite the third stanza. Even
that masking tape in the first stanza suddenly chills. Yes, its super.
All best
C
> KL4
> ---
>
> It's a beautiful evening. I'm hunting down the surreal,
> and my feet are killing me. I turn a corner at Do-It-All,
> past the masking tape, into an aisle of wall fixings and hooks.
> There's a sign: Reptiles/Spiders. I've found what I'm after.
>
> It's not lying either. The tarantula's a definite bargain
> a snip at twenty-four ninety-nine, but I
> reluctantly decide against it, head back
> to the lampshades where I'm on more familiar turf.
>
> I'm not in the mood for pub food; the queuing arrangements
> at Pizza Hut daunt me; I never eat burgers, so
> I'm in the nearly deserted car park, eating a Tesco
> Chicken and Chargrilled Vegetable Pasta Snack,
>
> and watching a woman with rather nice calves who's walking
> to her car. I wonder if she perceives me a threat, if she's not
> hurrying because she's not hurrying or because
> she's telling herself there's nothing to worry about, no need to hurry.
>
> These days, the glasses I need for reading and writing
> are too strong to allow me to see distant things clearly.
> Darkness drifts in like the trickle of audience
> turning up for the last session, the pub and the party.
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