The Canada geese are fat this time of year;
they waddle around the lock basin
pinching carp and perch & hunks of bread,
thrown by man and boy
At Miles Platting bridge, the houses are run-down
almost desolate; & the rough-arsed rogue voiced
lads and ladettes leer, on street corner and over bicycle
handlebars- probably knicked
probably
not bloody bothered
not one;
iota of charm passes their lips
- The geese however, hiss and preen
at the barbie-pinks kickin' back
with hooded-boys; chucking white lightening bottles
and fag packets 'bout
Hiss and furl
Hiss and furl
Feathers shadow under the bridge;
adult pooh sticks for beginners

we've always called them canadian geese too- must be a local thing- i love lads and ladettes lear- love the consonation through out the piece- your manchester musings always such a flair of truth and you in them. 






----- thank you Kim














55 old applause
