DOVER’S
GOT TALENT
Wednesday morning,
It’s pissing down with rain
And Dover town centre stinks of cabbages
My soul takes a plunge at the bus stop
As I stand waiting for something that may never arrive
And a small child dithers in front of me,
Humming tunelessly
While noisily jamming crisps in its mouth:
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Dover’s got talent.
Meanwhile, all of the gawping mutants stumble past
And I wonder what the fuck I’m supposed to do with all of
this
And more importantly,
When it will be over…
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