The Wet Shift

Extracts.

Time was he'd be with the other workers heading south after another all night wet shift. But not today. Today, he's still invisible in his toasted brickwork hat and waking up late after a nights sleep on the butchers slab that rests buried in the dark silted low tide beach alongside the gravy.

***

Busy checking that the hidden key and twist are still in his deadman's waistcoat he will slowly begin his own journey south of the river to his cardboard hostel room, electric sheets, liquid breakfast and another brown day full of grey moods, careless thought and burnt cake.

Wet Shift

Steve Coel

..(the disturbing ) return of city lightning..

 

Too many daytime hideaways

are in backspaces

unseen from roads

and rear view mirrors.

Here, torn feral shoes

will once more be shredded

by rubble and broken glass

and shaking hands

will again be shaken

between tracksuits,

worn to hide

shape, weapons and sex.

But tomorrow you will return

because it is the place

where real trade

remains invisible

and ignored.

[ Previously published : Torn Shoes - Steve Coel ]

Walking Notes

..you catches snatches of stoned smiles floating through smoked out windows of passing stolen number plates. Everyone knows the cliches and seems to love them round here. And not ironically, ironically..

..( always ) seen wearing cheap clothes they's always got expensive rings and expensive boxfresh. Go figure. Seems weird to most, but is accepted down the street because knowledge is learnt early round here. Everyone knows, you don't learn, you's a loser. And that's where you don't ever want to be - reputations is made early and lasts. Everyone knows this, don't they? Is fucking first lesson for fucks sake!

Steve Coel