Who Lives In A House Like This?

Someone who still rolls his own.

Who wears a big brown jumper
full of holes.

Who looks like a bear.

He lives there.

There’s a harp in a corner.
Collecting dust.

Several guitars.
Acoustics. Electrics.

Amps. Cables.
Ashtrays.

An upright piano.

Notes echo round the staircase
when he plays jazz and blues

and climb the stairs
and float through the ever open doors
into the bedrooms

and the bathroom
and disappear down the toilet bowl

or through the many cracks.

It’s dark in there
where the sun can’t get in

and smoky
and atmospheric

like clubs and pubs used to be.

Cool Dry Place