Formica Garden

[Verse 1]
Sade, it's Klex. Pick up. There's a leather Osprey purse on my draining board,
Smells like a tax bracket I ain't never breathed before. Tuesday, 5 PM, by the bins
behind the Costcutter, he dropped it. All teeth and signet ring, asking for directions to
the new-builds, the glass-fronted sins. I saw it fall, clean on the concrete kerb,
heard the soft thud of it, a quiet, loaded verb. He didn't look back, just marched on
to his Uber, I waited for the engine hum to fade, a future consumer ghost,
a high-vis raider.

[Chorus]
And now there's twenty-pound notes fanned out on the formica, a thousand
folded paper orchids where we used to do algebra. This ain't a theft, Sade, it's a weed
pushing up through the paving. This is unclaimed deposit for a life of their saving.

[Verse 2]
Remember Mr. Henderson's eviction notice, the red ink bleeding on the door?
This purse could pay his council tax arrears and probably three months more.
There's a gym card in here for a place with a sauna and a pool, he's probably cancelled
everything already, thinks some gannet, some fool, has run off with his life. But his
life is just plastic and a number for his bank, mine's the rumble of the 343 bus
and the damp that fills the tank. I got concrete dust on my tongue, he's got
canapés and complaint forms, this isn't a crime, it's just balancing the storms.

[Chorus]
'Cause now there's twenty-pound notes fanned out on the formica, a thousand
folded paper orchids where we used to do algebra. This ain't a theft, Sade, it's a weed
pushing up through the paving. This is unclaimed deposit for a life of their saving.

[Bridge]
He texted someone 'At the site now, can't believe the state.'
His phone lit up the inside of the purse. Sade, I call that fate.
This is knotweed for his garden, Japanese and quick.
This is interest on the debt of every single brick.

[Outro]
Anyway. Call me back when you get this. The kettle's on.