Circulation
"Any reference in these regulations to a regulation is a reference to a regulation in these regulations" The British Banking Act 1979
Thatcher wins
walking the street in a big coat warm in its woolly embrace thoughts all my own passed a man chattering to himself or someone on down the street later I hear a shout a call out it’s something happening I turn to look and more shouts it’s chattering man now shouting and running man he’s in a rush man headlong running back down the street man I’m looking down the street to see who or what turn back to him yards away now he’s going full pelt he’s going to bump into me unless he swerves he’s leapt in the air now angry cry sailing as he shapes a kung-fu kick he’s locked on flying contact pain he follows with kicks and punches twin operation dodge and think and think the what why duck the swinging fist close chattering man is furious man you cunt you fucking cunt spilling into the road cars stop and horns sound got a lamppost now between us chattering man is mad man really fucking angry man my anger comes you fucking wanker fight now step forward steps back now spits on me moves away now you ever do that again you cunt do what I think
She empties the asylums on to the streets
Circular.
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i’m off the street on the bus packed post rush mid morning mixed bag still packed bendy bus good idea at the time more people get on squashed standing some off more on squeeze our bodies into other bodies pressed into action detached free to mingle breath and sweats eyes stay private look down up away a brain space held open looking and thinking outside the bus more on some off voices raised angry fucking shits stole my wallet we look around some eyes meet must have been them that got off fucking shits no point voice stops accepts fate hurt harm loss digested by the bus what can you do we are all digested by the bus our hopes and hardships our differences shared in this space journey joint purpose broken and remade each stop bus fodder spat out re-ingested and we know each other now few of us swapped looks and a sliver of inner space bus stops we lose some fresh friends more squeeze on a girl maybe fifteen heavily pregnant no school today standing opposite eyes meet you want a seat to sit nah scowls keep your brain space leans on the side bus stops more off than on thinning out city lawyer type gets on attaché case a bit unsure rides on the joint the bend the bus picks up speed city bound kneels down to shuffle papers just then the driver swings a corner the lawyer goes flying rolls papers sail pregnant girl laughs loud and hard we all smile more eyes meet stuff picked up and passed back flustered embarrassed resentful someone leans down and offering a hand with delight with sympathy: the 149 it’s like a roller coaster sometimes Loop. here it comes that bit again watch it now the thrill rewind the repeat again no start no finish a tale without a tail nothing ends so nothing new begins revolved recalled unresolved drawn in more again hooked it’s too much and not enough into the warp a trip a fall a slip now you now all of us caught on camera 25 frames of shame here comes that bit again watch it now continuously unfinishing the restarted look it’s you me them us stop now stuck eye trap space hold see sick anchored in a hollow bound in the present my time your time that’s us snapped off adrift floating on a fragment confined locked in the image scratching at the walls of our pixel prison too short long lost caught in the loop we go mad and we’re back on the streets with chattering man and all Thatcher’s children on the bus off the bus