Flying Leaf

Flying leaf. Tuesday I´ve looked in my kill list, but couldn´t find anyone to drone today, yet had time for the betting shop and won ten euros on a horse called Abdulla. In my trunks only, I went for a scooter drive; country lane a woman came out of her dwelling and crossed herself, yes I look like an overcooked vanilla pudding; but no need of her to throw pebbles and set her poodles on me. Why do I end up in the wrong places? Once was waiting for a bus taking me to Garston and it was raining; I have forgotten what I was doing there, I remember a black woman who gave me a sunshine smile and rain stopped. Still Tuesday and I have no assassination list ready only memories of a life where I was torn from the mother oak, drifting in the wind