It's 3:41 a.m. as I start to type these lines. For reasons that I could not, if pressed, explain, I'm still awake; still sitting up, waiting to watch the match between England and the USA streamed live (and probably illegally) from somewhere, almost certainly not South Africa and almost certainly not sanctioned by FIFA. So shoot me.
I ought to be in bed, fast asleep. I'll regret this decision later today.
But I'm here. I wrote yesterday's poem while I waited so the time has not been entirely wasted. It may not be the greatest poem ever written. It may not even be a very good poem but I console myself with the thought that I am writing, still trying to learn what works, still searching for the elusive combination that coheres in ways you can't quite pin down. I might find it one day or stumble over it in the dark. Or not. Who knows? The point is - you try.
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