The world smells of rain stained paving
meat broils behind windows of sweat
late night offy is swarming with hoods
they clutch at cans and half packs of Bensons.
I see me on the corner holding on,
one hand white in a traffic barrier clench,
the other channelling beer to my core.
We sway in no breeze, point at kebab rage
stand straighter when we feel some threat.
By three we are silent with the street
and it is time to walk away
we have comfy beds, for now
the street does not own us yet
we can escape to higher ground
though each night we get closer
to this street
closer by the tin.
