Friday 11th December



Predawn drive to small town. A luxury of parking spaces waits
with open arms,leaf mould ankle deep high in gutters. I am the
millionth customer, the first across the finish line, won gold
rewarded in space & time.  Blacktop cracked beneath my trainers,
three stripes left, three right. Pavements dry as bones, parched
by a chill wind from the East, St Petersburg-whispers numb the tips
of ears & fingers.
Found a corner of a cafe where the phones don’t work. Whipped some
porridge on my synaptic connections, to let the world in. Let the
pen dance across the paper, figure skating between thin lines of
translucent blue, notebook specific. I’m surfing morning grooves
in reverie when a face invade, comes close, peers through the
expression I’m hiding behind. “Hello” it says, it knows my name,
noticing a subtle recoil I’m too slow to conceal.


2 thoughts on “Friday 11th December

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.