Static

Curled up under the polyester duvet in Great Chesterford
Alice's face is a billboard.

She dreams of limes rolling off kitchen counters,
swimming pools with open grates.

It's too hot on the patio,
the T shirt rucks the back of her neck as she strips off
in front of Helen's brother eating ketchup on toast.

She slams her back flat on the paving slabs,
stares bare breasted
at the flight path static.