Bob Dylan’s “Oh Sister”.
I slipped in a small pool of blood on the vinyl floor of the chipper and ended on my arse, no salt, no vinegar please, and the woman in the leather jacket was laughing at the first table, red ketchup, that’s what that is, it really isn’t - it’s blood, I can smell the wound, I tell you I can smell the slice in the skin and you should not treat me like a stranger .
Rope top blood ties, let’s put something on that, this is the safe word, that is not, say it if you want and if you do I’ll kill you, and that is not the way out, that is the exit, and neither of these things is negotiable, you have to go through one or the other, and my sister will collect me if I call her, and I will be mysteriously saved .
Time is an ocean but it ends at the shore.
You may not see me tomorrow.
On the hill in the middle distance, on the hill that has the edge, and the cut that has it, THE CUT THAT HAS IT, on the chimney, where I took your photograph before you nearly died, here’s one for ya , I can see the cut, and the air is solid everywhere but here, and you must realise the danger . Those cliffs are high and the rocks down there will kill you. But the falling. Oh the falling.
