LATE THAN NEVER:
The drunk staggered onto the petrol station forecourt,
I watched him from the corner of my eye, made it through
the shop door first & held it open…no one appeared.
As I left I found him wavering, face up against the
empty newspaper racks, fiddling with a wallet. He looked
respectable, Barbour, green wellies, the country type.
He didn’t move as I returned to the car, just balanced,
rocking in an invisible wind, oblivious to everything
but the tiny bits of paper in his hands. Behind the wheel,
I locked the car & watched, he lunged, re-igniting motion
in his legs, bursting into the shop as a fragile blonde
extracted money from a cash machine. Leaning over the
counter he whispered to the assistant who reached back
high onto the shelves behind & slipped a quarter bottle
of Vodka to the drunk.
(K)
Karl Hyde 
Darkness…staggers into more darkness…the road appears to turn into a black tongue with green moss on hidden teeth…ready to take a bite out of carelessness.