Read a poem by another poet written
on the same day:

I carry a TV round with me
almost everywhere I go
up and down deserted streets
all over the night-time town

I fall through neighbours' flats
as I make my way home
stagger as if I'm drunk
through foreign living-rooms

Always clutching my TV—
once I forgot it completely
left it lying on the pavement
as I woke up and walked

I  saw the electrical people
return and open their shop
afraid they'd taken it
I ran back their direction

I asked about my TV
until I saw it standing there
sitting still on the pavement
waiting for me to come

The town's up in roadworks
the night-time operators
arrive and cut all the tape
roll it up red and white

I get lost walking home
through dreams so familiar
but I find the diversion
and make it back at last

My neighbours—3 women
and a mother—help me
stumble through their house
I flop down on their floor

They help me up and up
till I can stand and go
staggering out their patio
with my TV in my arms

And when I get home
I plonk it down to watch
but as soon as I plug in
I fall into deep deep sleep

Shutford