Sunday, September 29

Next To The Frequented Busstop

next to the frequented busstop
shoedragged dogshit asteroids shoot
across the pavement
fading with every step, diminishing

The old concert hall—now office
space( TO LET); though mosaics and
undusted chandeliers
linger to be sold off one poor day

‘Little Driver’ has its curtains down,
smokestained and shakeless unmoving
stiff, locked in pie
mashliquor and men praying as gargoyles

So the young girls in hijabs,
silhouetting Mile End sun in threes
traipse to school
in crisp September uniforms New

morning walks to the Bow Road
station are the fantastic daydream
first thing in the
day, busied with the fancy for all.

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