248. the filth
typical bloody copper
she thought
staring up at the woodchip ceiling
– come –
as if !
you’re not pounding the beat now
you cocky bastard
banging away
in the creaky bed
with the creaky floorboards
& pantomime B&B landlady
with her ear to the wall, no doubt,
at oh two hundred hours:
he’s the one on secondment
on automatic pilot
& paying the bills
– as he whispers in her ear
come quietly now
come quietly.