Thursday, March 17, 2005
Mark Hughes
When Blackburn play Man U,
Does Hughes spot a corner of the ground
And feel a memory exploding,
Filling his head like an airbag and
Pushing tears to his eyes?
Does he feel the plummeting
Nausea, the shock that each moment
Is irreclaimable?
Wayne and I sat in a Leeds pub
And worked out what each in our
Office should do karaoke.
“Slow Hand” by the Pointer Sisters was
Right for Joe, a born again Christian,
A tall, black Brummie.
I heard it last night and
It winded me: how obscene,
How incredible that I
Would never again be that person,
In The Square on the Lane.
|
When Blackburn play Man U,
Does Hughes spot a corner of the ground
And feel a memory exploding,
Filling his head like an airbag and
Pushing tears to his eyes?
Does he feel the plummeting
Nausea, the shock that each moment
Is irreclaimable?
Wayne and I sat in a Leeds pub
And worked out what each in our
Office should do karaoke.
“Slow Hand” by the Pointer Sisters was
Right for Joe, a born again Christian,
A tall, black Brummie.
I heard it last night and
It winded me: how obscene,
How incredible that I
Would never again be that person,
In The Square on the Lane.
|
