on sundays
it was almost considered a duty
to actively seek disappointment
it helped blend with
the mood of the day

waiting for the valves
to warm up on the black
and white television
or various shades of grey
television
like the various shades of grey sky
or the various shades of grey
rows of terrace houses
and inside
the ashen faces
stuffed to the gills with smog
faces
cod miserable
realising that there’s only
songs of praise
to watch on the shades of grey television
faces

our only form of grey relief
seemed to be
watching other peoples’
washing being spun whiter than white
at the laundromat
whilst trying to tune
a transistor radio
into a pirate rolling with the waves station

it was warm
and there was always
an off chance
of a little drama
with the soap dispenser