My head is too full. I’m worried that my brain will break again and a kindly doctor will tell me that it’s not as simple as a knee and that consequently it will take a wee bit longer to heal.
Last night a whole poem came in my sleep. It woke me up. I tried to switch it off but it insisted, it really did insist that I write it down. This is it:
Fra Filipo Lippi pee pee
When does Fra Filipo pee pee?
When Filippo’s feeling sleepy
Then Filippo’s has a pee pee
And, if by chance he’s sad and weepy
Guess what? Lippi does a pee pee
You see what I mean. It’s not Keats. This is what goes on in my head.
And now I have to give it a title….
waiting room –