A poem by Simon Tester
The Fog Bummer
It was a cold day
(Darkness, Black)
It certainly wasn’t summer
The presence was clear
In reverse I had steered
and there with penis and no hair
I was aware of… the Fog Bummer.
The Story
I used to enjoy going for walks to help clear the mind and work on new poetry, this was the case, until one fateful night during the Ryder Cup of 2008 when I decided to spend the evening alone on a walk in the fog, until I realised I was no longer alone.