The Old HQ

Thought I saw a twisted skylight

I read a book about orgone

Reminded me of sitting o­n an old green couch without cushions and the smell of butts in a beer bottle

Or was it a hidden pair of old socks or a jockstrap?

Listening to Eno or LA Woman, Public Image, Jim Kerr or the Horn or Memory Motel. (And later Mutiny in Heaven, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Fall and Love Supreme)

I remember vividly a visit from a couple of fervent lads interested in joining the band and old jackets

Everyone wore jackets in those days

Black op-shop special

And the smell of the Cat Protection Society or the book store

Selling of the same records for a packet of smokes and 5 long necks

7/11 3.00am tortellini in a can and sliced bread for dinner or the ultimate - semi preserved chicken roll

What about Lichelle and her friend?

And Miles and his big bag of green kiff

And not long later the fire

Go back a bit

The party and the fight

Lumps o­n my head and pink guitar and hash pipe gone

I remember Phil with the pills and his Ziggy Stardust affair

And Martin and sculpture and a curry and nose bongs

The old HQ

Now a supermarket

Figures

Them mostly cunts out there

There all cunts out there

Even now a HQ o­nly got limited shelf life