It's not a long trip
As the crow flies
But at Kingston's grand
Theme park of
Finality
the John crows circle
Overhead
The location
Of grave A346 lost
even to them
Its occupant consigned by the judge to
That seaside resort for
Those deemed to be
At the point of last resort
But did they leave him be
having discarded him?
Did he terrify them
With new songs?
Did he - even without his horn - blow phrases that
Confronted them with
their many wrongs
What was handed down
As sentence
Must have been was an escape
At least at first
With Bournemouth in view
And the billowing inter-party war
raging away from him yet all around
But reality
Without the sound was
eventually
A desert he couldn't
cross
A Sahara with dunes of
loss
Anita already
Under the earth
And the band in
disarray
No one to bother him and
yet no one for whom to
play
How did he check out
Did he merely yield
the spirit
or did it leap and jump
like a ska melody
anxious to escape
a shower of boots and clubs?
The once and future
Mystery
made mortal for but
a moment
His notes ringing clear now
on a much grander
stage
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