
Poem: George
George Last night I dreamt of Club Tropicana again. The pool house with inflatable donuts on the heated water, at the end of his garden in Highgate, with a view across Hampstead Heath. He’d wake late, smoke a joint, record demos. He loved throwing his acrobatic voice around the basement studio. After lunch he’d look for men online. He’d bought the bed especially, it fit … Continue reading Poem: George