The car silvers through
a slow bleed of light.
In the thin 6pm drizzle,
we wind past
fog shrouded pedestrians.
Each caught in a brief
soon forgotten
second of their lives,
not knowing we share
this moment, this pause
at traffic lights,
the same half-glances
at rusting skeletons
scattered on the Clyde.
And we watch the rain
turn twilight blue
and stare at
blurred reflections
on shadowy windows
without recognising
who we are.
