DAWN:

Appears out of the dark, preceded by rubber grumbles, pushing a big
red thing on wheels, wheels that used to be our friends,
friends remain, no longer write letters, industry as poetry, a legend
still rolling, a glimmer of a smile in recollection of times.

Messages vibrate cafe tables, shaken by distant afterthoughts as the
names of exotic hot-stuffs burst through the door, rolling off the
tongues of painters & decorators, twenty first Century evolution
on the move, the accent of Man, steamed with a shot, keeping it clean
since 1971.

Listening to Niels Kirk

(K)