Sinking into certainty,
High collared grey coat,
High minded contempt,
Shoes stitched and rounded, polished at the toe.
You’re just heading where you’re going,
Along this cracked pavement, with these overlooking windows,
This audience of closed-mouthed doors,
And grey-green gardens.
In the company of cut-outs.
He casts you as a shadow,
And you cast her,
And she casts him, who casts her, who casts…
Waiting in line,
Forgotten what for,
Shiny dreams long-ago trod on.
Reading the paper, folded in quarters.
A man pushes in front of you,
You notice that he’s dressed in bright red.
Picture credit/discredit: author's own work