Monday 20th June



A black car slips away unseen up a street of yellow lines,
abandoning uncertainty long enough to leave. A boy stands
in the road contemplating something hot, wrapped in brown paper.
Awkward, obvious, the first beard of a man. Youth gathers to
kill time, smoking cigarettes curb-side, languishes in chairs
outside the kebab shop. Smells of fry-ups, fast coffees,
fragile cool, sneers, nothing.


6 thoughts on “Monday 20th June

  1. My dear beetles,alfa romeo is waiting for me to drive over and over up and down,till i’m back in my fullhous discretlessness blackbox.See you.Tüss.

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