- This poem has been in my head all weekend, so much so that I've been sending it to people all day and making up riffs on a variation. As I arrived at my front door this evening, inevitably plugged into my ipod, this version of This American Life, all about false apologies, began a chapter about the very poem and many poets who have played around with it. Forgive me / they were delicious.
- Leaving a packet of papers in a shop on my way home, and the lovely shopgirl waiting for me to return after closing time to pick them up.
- An evening that felt like summer and, later, working on the doorstep.
- Touching base with Alf - usually we're like ships in the night.
- Empty.
Monday 20 April 2009
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