Every Morning is a One-Armed Bandit

Every morning is a one-armed bandit,
Two lemons the first pee is not red,
Only nudges away, heart attack, stroke.
Some say quit while you’re ahead.
Places along the row stand empty now,
June lost her mind. Anna followed Peter.
A woman I only know to see is always smoking outside.

Photo: Self-portrait. “Bearded in his den”

Author: Stephen Moran

I was born in Dublin and made my way to London on a bike in my mid-twenties. It’s where I can still be found though ever further out, most recently as far as Harrow. I no longer own a bicycle.