ON ATTENDING A RECORD FAIR

dim faces
blotched
stupidity
vacuous 'dance' music tables
unladen with goods
monochrome shitheadedness
pricey cakes
lame coffee

no I am not bitter
we sold nothing
we were not meant to sell

sweat
human sweat
enveloping
the tawdry Dalston basement
in a vile rank cacophony
the age of Fleetwood Mac and
Jethro Tull
the 'crazy' world of Arthur Brown
spineless
dull-clothed pointlessness

no I am not bitter
few visited our stall
few were meant to visit it

Predictable wares
insipid clawing hands
flicking through sleeves
in a sturdy quest
for something
uninspiring
they will not approach us
we are the colour
we were/are the light
they for no particular reason
thrive in the shade
of artificial staleness

no we are not bitter
our man let us down badly
and made us look and feel like fools
yet bitterness
you are a stranger