They had camped in or set up, whichever
feels more like the strapline that pegs tonight's
pause in the triple-speak epic. Friday's
afoot, and plane leaves are left here to flap
in a huff of breeze. Leaving, they’ve pitched some-
where right off the kilter of where we once
thought this old storm might be gusting.
pretend that this studio-lawn, London,
England, the self-indicted, nippy king-
dom will shoot back to where it was, come spring.