Dead men's shoes blues

 I'm walking around in a dead man's shoes

But he had a big foot print

So I know I can't lose

I'm still walking around

In a dead man's shoes

I wouldn't say it harms me

I wouldn't say I've got

The same size feet as him

But I can still fill his plot

He's got big boots to fill

And currently I've not

Still I ain't got the blues

Just walking around in

A dead man's shoes

Don't kill me with kindness

But you can kill me with love

Hate is an engine 

And its mind is hot

I've seen a freight train

Rolling into the lot

But these dead man's shoes

Keep me living my plot

Thank you

Thank you for the flower from India
I received her pressed in a cardboard shoe box
She had a Saffron head
Smelt of Juniper
Reminded me of the subcontinent
A pity she was dead
Thank you for the thought
From India sent
Mumbai street scenes
Elephant grass, high humidity
Of boggy marshes
The tiger's trail ahead
Thank you for these false dreams
The cut out conveniences
Of mind, snipped, cellotaped at the seams
To run the reel of old India
In my post-colonial, mobile-phone-rung mind