‘Service Station’, Leila Dickinson
Service Station Maybe you could buy me a neck cushion, an overpriced coffee or a Krispy Kreme from WHSmith. You could laugh at me in baggy on-the-road clothes, glorified pjs you might say. Perhaps you’d wait for me outside the loos and we’d moan about how they need a good clean. We might discuss how strange it is to have gambling stations here. If I … Continue reading ‘Service Station’, Leila Dickinson