top of page

We turned left at Sebastopol

You were looking over your shoulder

Silk scarf fluttering in the breeze

I never learnt what you were looking at

The message ought to have been clear

Where we were heading in our dreaming

No stops through red lights automatic screaming

Today’s mess only another glimpse of yesterdays

So what was I feeling

Slowing to a crawl looking for some healing

For some normality, ours

Like a house on fire insane

A quick rush, a further scene

The blood stops seventeen seconds from zero

A depiction of our bodily conversations

Leaving again

Always leaving

And what then remains 

Our juices metered

What are our defences, our leading story

Cannot possibly continue unscathed 

Is this another departing

Only you know that this time


Words written February 2022. There were 2 poems. This one the idea was a couple driving out of Paris from the Boulevard de Sebastopol off to who knows trying to sort out their relationship problems, their dream. The other was inspired by Julia from Sevastopol, but it is a different story.

Song, could it be anything other than This mess were in by PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke.

Photo of Boulevard de Sebastopol from Wikimedia Commons.

bottom of page