We spin our stories,

Like busy consumer spiders,

Sewing and stitching our

Bric-a-brac collection of things,

With meaning.

Like the unicorn mane pink

Cashmere Jumper,

Off the rack expensive season chic,

That you only wore once,

Never to don again,

On that blind date

With Derrick.

Who pretended

To have

An itchy inner nasal wall,

To dig out buggers,

Wiping them on

On the best by Victorian era

Restaurant table cloths.