Where...small feet climb cob-web steel tree and pram wheels fall into strutted path..
Where...slippery eyes fix on glassy oil pavement..
Where...shredded cliff top grass twists halted message...
Where...bitter, blameless minds enter watered down invisible strips of shadow..
Where...dead fruit is picked clean by unseen nightlife..
Where...barber shop windows reflect passing stooped daytime..
Where...cheap toys are solitary on garden wall and stolen trolley..
Where...lost faces merge with elderly condemned brick..
Where...suspicious tin badge statements are worn like dismissed broken attitude..
Where...wild animals pass through broken door work place.
Steve Coel
