The sun shines
through snow clouds
on days like this
where nothing can go wrong.

The ice lays
around us
in small patches
but not for long.

An hour passes
and they are gone.
A memory
A day old memory.
Gone.

The sun never last forever.
And the snow comes down again.
Everything that was going so well at first
suddenly stops.

There they are again.
Or maybe they're different this time.
Different in looks at most.

Special brew in hand
they sit on the children's swings
watching the day go by.

I can't remember the last time
that I walked this way
and didn't see at least two of them
sitting on the swings,
hiding in the entrance to that small building
ruining what was a children's park.

Can't remember the last time
the playground didn't have empty
tinnies on the floor
and **** around the edges.

As I reach the doorstep
I hear a question
from one man to another.
“Will they change the flag?”
“They'll have too.
Part of it's Scottish.”

I open the door,
and walk inside.

Is it important
to change an ancient flag
that really holds no purpose.
More is slipping
through the fingers.

A book's laid out in front of me.
Broken spine keeps my place.
Heat from both radiator
and unfamiliar sun.

I close my eyes,
wishing half an hour
would disappear
like it does on any other day.

Ticking of nails on plastic keys,
behind and in front.
The sound of a generation.

Distant talking and traffic light beeps
masked
by cold-ridden breath.

A car drives passed the window,
slowly. And then it's gone.
Hidden beneath the beep
of a successful loan.
Still the sound beats all.

He walked passed,
across the street,
drunk.
Yodeling to everyone he saw.
A young woman rushed
trying to hide her laughter.

He walked out of sight
but we could all still hear him
as he yodeled away.

Another one came.
Same direction,
but on this side of the street.
Stopped at the shelter,
sat down.

“Hey man.”
Slurred.
“You smoke?”
I said no.
“I don't blame you. I do and I still don't blame you.”

A young girl,
still in school,
walked up and sat next to him.
“You waiting for the 16?”
the drunk says,
although I misheard him the first time.