Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Before The Shopper Arrive

The smell of breakfast lingers
On the air, in pubs
And the greasy spoons.

The morn still fresh,
A nicotene stained
White-washed world.

The feet breaking apart
Rainbows, preserved in the water
Upon a diesel soaked street.

The traffic spills out
Onto roads, rain water
Off the dunes in Spring.

Doors bang and buses hiss
As the kettle rumbles on, and
Teaspoons ting within teacups.

Little faces to match little voices
In the bustle before the bell;
Mid-Summer midges in the shade.

The ties are straightened, hair set
In place, the check of breath, before
Poodles and the ponies parade.

Nine O'clock -
The tide rushes out;

The parade begins, in meeting rooms
And office blocks; as the midges fade out
In the sun, teacups settle on desks
And the chairs squeek and roll,
A nest of mischievous mice.

The traffic hum now silent
As the last cars crash, into
Car parking spaces, and the pot-holes
Now homes to water, diesel
And the rainbow.

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