To Birmingham

I was on my way to Birmingham when I wrote it, hence the name.

I break down.

Cry out,

moan.

We slip in

to this routine,

habit.

I slip out of this dress.

You are hard to handle.

I am out of my mind.

Default setting,

self destruct.

I write poetry on trains, buses.

F**k boys.

Never men.

Get fucked.

We both do.