When a copper eyeballed me
outside ‘Boots’ in Croydon
at 1.00 am, he
was actually doing me a favour,
‘cos it meant I was not down in Devon
when his lordship’s place
was being turned over;
between the hours of 12.30am
and 1.30am on that very day…
but later that morning, when I saw
that bloke getting something out of your eye
in the doorway of W.H.Smiths,
when you were supposed
to be staying in washing your hair…
I felt a need for further investigation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem