Crossing Townsend Lane huge concrete blocks on their way to the East Lancs Road-
my father is still asking me not to betray him – pleading
as the two coppers pin him back against the hall wall –
the vehicle has eighteen huge wheels – i say no, no I don’t
love you – before i spoke – he should never have asked me anyway
after not supplying the sperm or sanity – i’d looked around at the women
and made my choice – though joining them was the worst choice
i ever made – the police stand alongside the smoking truck
as it edges past the wall of the Church of the Holy Blood, yellow lights
pulsating in a stifling blanket of dusk- i wonder where they took him?
and when he came home and was he sober?

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