I’m beginning to belong to Glasgow
Glasgow’s beginning to belong to me
I’m beginning to know just where to go
In the centre of that well-planned city
On the outskirts the tower blocks stand, like trees
In a spaced-out forest after the bombs
The trains cross the Clyde, bonny and shiny
Where shipbuilding was the thing, slipping once
Upon a time into the setting suns
Of war and peace, the ritual sword blow
Of capitalism’s hara-kiri
Applied with cruel east-west slide motions
Slicing through docks. Still, flocks of tall girls flow
Up and down grid iron streets, ever thirsty
Thursday 3 December
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