July 2023 in Review - the Last Bus Live @ the Troubadour, Earls Court

Descended into the iron strangeness of the hollow hock hock of a wood block beating out a tempo that gets inside your side to side.

Forest Law sews movement indistinguishable from his shoulders. A pick between the lips like a flavour. Savoured. The pawing of the floor as the pedal finds balance under a sock. Under a Ferris Bueller sound off. Deep rhythm padded into, spun out of a chocolate box.

After - M Field.

Effacing. Evasive.

More groundless heels except in the solitude of a semi-private moment. When the intimacy is passed, like a thread. That for just an instance. In round-toed shoes. On the carpet.

Before crawling into another's guitar,

A white shirt on a broken string.

Still words, a Butler, pouring

melancholic merriment.

It was a pleasure.

I said

And duly meant it.