My Diary: Going Home With Skyscrapers In My Coat Pockets

I got up as daylight merged contiguously with electric light and the new flats across the road rose from the railway embankment mist‭; ‬the occupants of the top storey had ballistic missile heads which launched into the vertical atmosphere as I caught the horizontal and slow bus to the next County.‭ ‬I said hello to the man whose speciality is painting grey squirrels on hazel nuts and then entered the shrunken head house,‭ ‬making anagrams from the word childhood as I did so.‭ ‬After talking about the weather forecasts found in the the poetry of William Wordsworth I left again to catch an even slower bus home‭ ‬-‭ ‬although not before studying a map of the world as it was in the early Nineteenth Century on the ever smiling door mat.‭ ‬I thought about my old cloud house all the way home.

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