I tell it like we didn't know what we were doing
but maybe we did. You know when it started
and it was just about Sufjan Stevens and that John Wyndham book
(you never told me if you hated it) and it wasn't like
those people with their sordid afternoon Travelodge fucks.
But when the storm hit and the horse had bolted,
there it was and there was no-one else to blame or kick.
You told me you're from Biggles -worth or -wade
and when I googled it, it looked like Inspector Morse's
neck of the woods and it was - and still is.
So I wondered what you'd make of Teesside
with its concrete and dog shit and always someone
shouting, this orange smog like a filthy Northern Lights
and these cruddy shops with not a fucking thing worth buying.
Then it seemed ridiculous, that time I said about
Jimmy Stewart, as if I could be like him for you
and when I said that thing, well I shouldn't have said that
but you said it too but in a different way but just as nice.
Well you know what they say about when life gives you lemons.