Most poetic thing I said this week without trying to be:
~These streets are graveyards~
(Uttered after dodging one of the many chicken bones that litter most Mancunian concrete passages.)
One time I accidentally kicked a wee bugger and it shattered, spreading purple marrow bits all over my sandal-ed feet. Initial revulsion gave way to smug self-righteousness for my new founded vegan ways. One pat on the back coming right up.
An apt little tie-in.
Anywhoozers, I'm going to be working for the next while so it might be a good idea to check out some actual quality poetical musings via Lauren's, Labour of Lemonade (I did it without asking permission so if you're going to stalk, don't disclose the tip-off).
Good-bye and, go on, do your best Jagger.
