Number Twenty-Three - Hurst Old Low Light
Mist shrouds the train lines.
Sit in the follow car between Dad and his brother.
A small patch of iridescence plays on the ceiling.
Past a pub where she used to go dancing.
The undertaker says "traffic's good, no problems at all".
At the service, Mary speaks of the rhododendrons that lined the drive of Coldeast hospital.
How arriving from Ireland, she must have thought this was paradise.
A wicker coffin, that we're invited to lay hands on before the curtain comes around.
But unsure which end is which.
A double Jameson, no ice.
Carla says she made three grand in the strip club last night, shows me a bit of paper to prove it.
Meant to ask Mary if the rhododendrons are still there.
Or maybe I did ask, and just can't remember her reply.