by Marc Carver

I GET OUT of bed at close to one.
I go and throw some water over my face.
I look at my face for a while.
It looks like a big vegetable.
Maybe a cabbage or cauliflower.
My hair sticks up in a tuft.
What are those vegetables
that have tufts at the top.
What about an old swede.
Yes, that could well be me.
I put some clothes on and head downstairs.
Grab a coffee
and wonder what I will do with the day.
I thought my problems were all behind me but no.
I cannot separate them
from the man that is me.
I guess that I never will.
I read an article in the times
about a man who would write down his poetry
because he said it levelled him out.
I have met him.
But he does not look like a vegetable.

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