Trying to argue that it isn’t my fault
that Khartoum was designed in the shape
of a Union Jack is a bit of a lost cause. But,

when I say I was in heaven, stretched
on my back over the roof of the railway carriage
to Babanusa, through the desert, at night,

marvelling at the stars, and the spaces between, and
during the day; tracking the sun,
long-jumping over the line from horizon to horizon;

I’m sorry that all you hear is the bit about the one line;
and yes, I sympathise that there’s only one line
because ‘we’ only built one line; it’s our fault. And

I agree it’s probably not civilised to sit on the roof of a train;
or right to blaspheme about being in Heaven, and I’m sorry
if my reference to being ‘on top’ was misinterpreted. But

when I tell you about the parrots on the solitary telephone
line, bouncing exotic tightrope walkers, feathers fluttering
in the dry desert wind, I’m sorry that all you hear is the bit

about the single line. And I believe you when you say it’s ‘our’
fault because ‘we’ only put up one telephone line from
north to south, I’m sure you’re right. I’ll have to live with it. But

I’m sorry you missed the bit about the parrots, and the desert.
Because I’ve never noticed the parrots sitting on the telephone lines
between Bournemouth and Waterloo. I’ve never looked for them. And

I’d never even been on top of the train, under such a starry sky, in fact
I’d never been on top of the train under any sky, or been able to see
Both horizons at the same time and yes, I know that’s all ‘our’ fault.