beatles / stones

Sometimes I forget that I am

my memory is made up of affectionate toothpaste ads
of the past three decades.

On occasions I think I’m John Lennon
returning his CBE
over to that Biafra thing,

but the mirror in the bathroom
is smudged with childrens fingerprints
and it never lies to me.

It can not talk
you see,
it merely reflects the truth

which I have a tenuous grip on,
sometimes I admit.


my dog twitches, scratches
in his sleep while
I look on thinking
nightmare or fleas?

I can never decide.


But let me put that all aside
for a moment so I can explain to you,
I could never make up my mind be between the Beatles or the Stones.


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