CAR, SUN, BIRD, STICK, WORM:
There’s a bird & a worm on the branch of a London Plane,
sun low to the horizon, people moving fast & stoney,
on a mission, collision with their rendezvous’, except you.
You’re parked in the wrong direction, watching something
in the distance, who’s that in the back seat? Who’s that
in the corner? Who’s that in the photograph, doing what
I used to do, blue suit, white dog, new shoes, haircut,
fresh & smiling? What are you up to now?
I used to be a satellite, orbiting your world, waiting
to be called down, spinning. Now there’s a bird on the branch
of a London Plane & you’re parked in another direction.