Once Seen

On a low-sun day
the laundrette chugs out plenty
and terrace gardens fly their flags.

Curry meets fry-up windwise
and kids hawk spit on pavements.

This is where you meet her, reading something cultish.

A stealth of cats patrol the tilting roof -
soup sipping and clatter remind you of something,a kid's swinging
shoes
are like the ones you wanted when you were eight.

Would like to describe yourself as 'bohemian',
often reduced down to that shirt or that
very particular coat you wear.

Freelance
'So you haven't got a job, then?'

You love the suburbs
with the sour flavour of the city just about on everyone's lips.

Her bag has daisies on it.

Apparently you're the 'Bridge and Tunnel' set now,
salt shaker and a leaky ketchup bottle.

Her eyes are green; maybe a sort of blue -
you know this much because she looks up.