She looks good
blue hat
green glasses
pink headphones
red galoshes

almost as if she's splashing
her
colours over the contours of
this carriage.

There's a smell of yesterday
and its undrunk alcohol
waging war through the air

she looks as if looks didn't care
but looks anyway
at medallion man who looks to me
like Mr T.

score one for the A team.

Thursday
wore away a little more.

I'm still here though
pushing on through
the day of work is done
and I am heading home
which is
the right thing for me to do.

The Chinese man
wearing ****
way to go!

Shanghaied.

Somewhere
stars collide
planets are torn
reborn
to be torn into
a
dawn out of dust

and I just
had to put that in
even though it's not
a part of this poem

It was lost where I found it.