Went to London,
Scraped a knee.
My drunk brother
Slapped my face.

I deserved it,
He said then.
A decade out
I finally agree.

Wrote a poem
Later that year
Called “Favourite Colours.”
Not very good

But important
For my growth.
Helps to know
What is garbage

And what sings.
Each October
I watch films.

The first two are
The good ones.
Michael Myers,
Called “The Shape”

In the credits.
Not a human
Or a brain,
Just a figure

Of sheer menace.
Dark blank evil,
His doc says.
Helps to know

Who is garbage
And who sings.
Same for music:
Werewolf howls

And pop tunes.
The same art
Made The Colour
And The Shape.