I lost a precious notebook that was found by an Angel in a bizarro Kilburn pub.
You, me & good company just looking for some space to take a picture of us for
something about to happen. In an upstairs room we posed beneath a cloud of
lampshades, walls hung with rotting paintings. The camera clicked, we clung
together like a cherished title from a Hockney painting. Then in walked Dr Strange
with the head of a fox he arranged on a tripod of bones behind the bar. He wore
a black coat & a bone dome & a serious expression perhaps we would’ve made
a connection twenty years ago. Later, we met legends & talked music with heros
then sat in grid lock for the ride home out’ve town, just two boys in a borrowed car
like when we lived in Cardiff, up the smoke to see the bright lights, laughin’ for a day.