Are you awake?
I walk into a supermarket on Hoe Street so I can hear him.
It’s one I haven’t been into yet.
I pretend to look interested in the cereals.
Yes, since eight.
As I pass the frozen fish I ask when I’ll see him.
That’s why I’m ringing.
I stand in front of the pickles.
I don’t have my diary.
Neither do I.
I hadn’t realised how many things people like pickled.
Someone was murdered in Walthamstow, he says.
I know dad. It’s OK.
Comments
lenchenelf | March 30, 2009 - 13:38
Noticed you've just edited, I liked this piece so had nipped off to read some of your past work, have found "April Commute" Smashing, look forward to catching up on more :-)atb L
Silver Spun Sand | March 31, 2009 - 22:15
Like this - a lot.
Tina:-)
HaiAnh | April 1, 2009 - 15:12
Thank you guys, how does one do italics? I fear the poem is confusuing without them. Also, all feedback welcome as it is a first draft.