And so it starts..
Two chases. At the same time. The novelty of poverty..
Words spoken out of turn. Causes offence..
Everyone's seeing signs that ain't really there..
First kiss of the day..
Protection. Hiding away is not an option..
Next to the fire escape door. Corner seat facing the entrance..
Threats; the bad kind..
A last major offence of the day. More to follow. Lots more..
Discarded
You's got the twist..
Secrets shared for information..
Truth shredded in a moment..
The silent bombshell suited beggar..
Notes
In your spring hat, tied with lost string, you search the free paper for clues for which day you now find yourself..Waiting. Waiting on the corner beat today for the next delivery in the rain..Disturbing the glances from local windows and trolley men..the clump of wet shoe against cracked kerbstone drunks..a high street roars with the anger of closure and debt..even the most fucked up has memories when called upon. Is called survival so it is..
Rings on her fingers..
First Draft - Steve Coel
