November 2022, on Graham Road

Sep 27, 2024

It wasn’t his

birthday he said but they

still sang from across the

street Running up to him the

moment cars cleared the

way like Moses parting the

waves for enveloping giggles and great

big hearty chest fulls They

embraced like you

would when facing one another I

sat on the edge of a

plastic red Twix

bench waiting for a bus to

delay more every

second It was meant to

arrive I catch a glimpse of

my reflection on the

scratched Perspex starched with

texture The lights

flew past The night of another

evening flew

with them I was lonelier

then The taste of familiarity so

removed and pallid I wasn’t

always this way but maybe I

was somewhat I am strung up on

acceptability too haggard with the

idea of collecting myself up

to charge on into the

world I am drawn

Up and across the

way friends huddle

over the traffic

signal of a

Lost Mary

Through the Eye of a Needle