A FEW INSECTS
CLASPED IN THE GLASS OF CYBERSPACE

I remember someone on roller skates singing a Beatles' tune, and a beautiful tree that got chopped down, and the pebble-dashed wall of a semi-detached house, where the wind caught your head most days, and my Dad's first car, and the town illuminations from inside a moving vehicle, and a breezy area of paving outside a cinema which was just full of sunlight in a hazy day in the late '60's, and a sandy beach with a kite near a house in Liverpool, and going on the back of my Dad's motor scooter, and a school corridor which smelt the same as your school and all other schools, and a first bicycle, which had problems moving it was so ancient, and being taught how to spell Egypt, and my siblings and my best friend, and an interview in a dark office, is this school too good for you?, and crying in maths class, and being homesick by mid-morning everyday, and not being able to eat, and knowing the holiness of the sun trapped between two panes of glass on a bus, and playing the piano on quiet winter days, and writing poetry in polished lecture rooms, and trying to find some words, and sitting in a garden in Summer, how present the present is, and living in a small room with too many spiders and falling in love rapidly and slowly, and hopelessly and happily, and losing and finding lots of things, and watching the slow crumble of a wave seen by me, three seagulls and a dunlin, and knowing the holiness of the brief life of a patch of sand and sunshine, and laughing too much and

Get me outa here to that safe ol' Homepage!!