Just like all good British boys,
he keeps his cards and his feelings
neatly folded in beige
buried under a treehouse
Elsewhere
His dog takes him for walks
keeping his smiles on a loose leash.
You can whiff their bittersweet smell
along Deptford high street’s corners
His dreams are as big as rings
of coffee beans around Saturn.
Imagine,
brewing an idea
planting, growing, squeezing
making it,
here
He has an ace up his sleeve
with the flush on his cheeks,
He is a man going all in