Because I can

Because I can

I am smoking in bed

way past midnight.

I am smoking in bed

and I have no work tomorrow

or the next day and I have just eaten

a streaky bacon sandwich.

I wanted this bacon sandwich

and I had it

and it was delicious.

I am smoking in bed

reading a book by someone

I admire enormously

and am mildly jealous of.

I would usually be asleep by eleven

but this man is just too good.

He brings to me the seed of a story

about a vulture who flies to Chipping Norton

and throws up outside cafes

and cackles at upturned noses

and refuses to be taken in by the RSPB

because he can.

He also makes me think

of a character called Roland Rock

who does everything the wrong way.

He wears underpants over his trousers

and has woolly hats for socks

and sleeps during the day on his lawn

and relieves himself in the greenhouse

and grows huge courgettes in his bathroom

and King Edwards in his living room

because he can.

I sleep well and dream a lot

and I think it’s because I read

before I go to sleep

or maybe it’s because my dreams

are not quite dead yet.

I had a dream a few days back

in which I was trying to escape from something.

A circus cart came along and creaked open

to reveal eight hideous-looking old people

hanging from butcher hooks

four either side.

They looked like felled grouse

and were covered in open cuts to the face.

One old lady was telling me not to do this

and not to do that

because I’d end up like them

but I didn’t think I was like them

and when I spotted an escape route behind the cart

I ran for my life without stopping to unhook them.

I want a bike and a camera

and I will search for one tomorrow

but it might be too late for all that.

I also have a new second-hand pair of pyjamas

to take back to the charity shop

because the legs and the arms are too short

And because I can.

Because I can

I am smoking in bed

and the day after next

I am going to listen to the doctor

who will tell me what’s going on.

I fear the worst

and it’s probably nothing

But I’m in love with contrarianism.

I am smoking in bed

and I am fearing the worst

and I am reading someone

I admire enormously

and am mildly jealous of

because he really can write

about hell on earth.