Tall Blues

A sad blue brain 
takes a trip 
around the world 
in the country 
and returns home to
sad brown curtains

The rust of the skin scrapes,
it passes through
a long tunnel of wind
as far as Russia
and returns home 
with secret songs
frozen in matryoshka dolls

Secret songs that
are no longer secret;
their dull white ghosts
pierce and splice listeners
who sit together crouched
inside rented flats
40,000 feet tall

Listeners who, with their eyes
half shut, go on a guilt trip
for not touching their neighbours before
or for not storing enough alcohol