Rhododendrons in Kippax
I walk from the gas works and I think, rhododendrons in Kippax. The number 19 bus comes over the bridge and I think, sherbet bon bons! Such beauty is overwhelming, like the smell of diesel on the A12 when a lorry has broken down in the fast lane during a snowstorm, or the sweet wafting of the Glastonbury urinals. And I ponder, what if Shakespeare went to America? “Shall I compare Thee to a Chevrolet?”