By Hilary Sideris

A little Tuinal at tea time

or for breakfast on the road


helped with the lack of jam

& scones. I played for days


on downers, not for pleasure,

but to shift from shitty fame


to busy lull, till I discovered

speedballs: cocaine & heroin


to take you up, bring you

back down. I still can’t fathom


why Scotland Yard bothered

to tap our phones, plant acid


in our cars? Chasing a band

of tripping troubadours,


how fucking bored

were those coppers?

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