Blown capacitors.

Do you ever look in that 

well worn mirror 

and think, it  would seem 

a part of me has been chinked away 

like that oxide suited armour 

the Cold light of seasonal day

The gaps in our capacity to learn.
Hang ups left in the cloak room  

Ticket stubs and hangers 

collecting telephone numbers 

that you haven’t yet clocked 

are that of a streetwise 

phone box girl.