A Nestlé Walk
On the Grand Union Canal, passing by the Nestlé Factory in Hayes, Middlesex
where, if a silo overturned, replaced the water in the canal
with custard, or rice pudding,
my boat would leave
a longer impression
than it does now while stalking this swan
under two grey carriageways,
getting by a town you once
knew, that once threw
mother’s milk and milky bars
into your sandal and sock
past. Your ghost peering over a rail,
on the bank, lusty for the scent
of trifle, would watch as I,
your future, splattered by,
or else if this were the surface
of a record from the Vinyl Factory,
my boat cutting a groove,
that repeated turning recalls
perfectly every time,
then I would be more than
a temporary dent in your mind
but our brains are just
a setting concoction of carnation milk,
banana shake powder, perturbed by electric,
so from each moment you capture my likeness,
cleavings get unmade, information rewritten, and...
on the canal, there’s a swirl, like coffee
being stirred and my moving weight is
gone, the surface sane again,
just a few bubbles, a little settling silt.
VIDEO Through Hillingdon on the Grand Union Canal
share your story archives@hillingdon.gov.uk