AS I WALKED OUT ONE MORNING:

The Barber stands alone with a cigarette & coffee,
The Window Cleaner scrapes the glass with frozen fingers,
The Builder stands in the middle of the road rubbing his knuckles,
Waiting for something to arrive,
Pointing to the sky,

It’s getting dark before it’s time.

A Blue bag swings from the knuckles of a small man,
Walking like a bird in the road,
A Girl with Charcoal eyes stands close to me,
Entranced,
Hot fingers
Dancing,
A Lost Man walks unsteady up the middle of the road,
Bobbling like a dashboard ornament,
His head in a hat called ‘Face’,

It’s getting dark before it’s time.

I’m recognised by the Girl with the Charcoal eyes,
As the sun hit’s the spires of churches,
Time,
In rings of Black & Gold,
Tells me Nine Thirty-Eight,
Laughing,

An Architect tells stories to an infamous drunk,
A Women in a wheelchair tries to pick them both up,
The Bells of Time ring quarters,
Silhouettes of towers through slatted blinds,

And It’s getting darker before it’s time.

(K)