(20 minute poetry)


Her hair hangs like untied shoelaces across a well worn pair of trainers,
rain has no friends in the fading night  .
I drip and aware if this is being aware shake my head in despair.

I bark
if I behave like a cur why then not act like one.

After the rain has gone and inside a tube train the heat is on there is always the smell of dead sheep to keep me company.

I love her woollen jacket
( must have cost her a packet )
but why wear it on a wet day?

Anyway while dead sheep weep I keep busy, head down, London Town tends to bend people like me to its will,
no quill?
a cursor
worse
a damp notebook

'Look Ma, top of the world'
Cagney wouldn't care about this
not when a grapefruit says more
than a kiss
I miss him.


The shoelace girl gets up to go
and just so you know
we didn't speak.

The thought of daffodils in the spring
bring me back to my senses.
dead sheep aside I'm only here
for the ride
and mine's the next stop.