Me & the gulls breath clean before the world wakes, the hiss
of traffic crossing bridges, white wing, black wheel, the Nice.
Lone walkers skirt walls, hunched, pocket’s full of fists,
approach me suspicious, black wool pulled low to the eye.
Heavy stone on the other side, Newcastle memories cling to
staunch architecture, the pride of times. River Tyne,
liquid chocolate, stilled by the incoming tide, quite as bath water,
heavy as the industry that built this city, confident tit will
outlast us all, reassuring animal friend slips through the valley.
Cold morning, everybody wrapped & tight. Two lads in geezer-T’s,
unshaven fingers dipped into bags of salties, feed on the move,
images of back end G-strings, black & white across their chests,
stare down a chill wind, let you know exactly what they’re thinking.
Men chase woman. laughing, who collapse into tickled heaps on
pavements screaming, happy, red-faced, sunglass concealed in bottle
Down on Wesley Square, along the re-invented waterfront.