Tall man. Right shoe worn down through the

Heel. Suit doesn’t fit. Shoulders slumped and

Bones rarely jumped. His desk is between the

Copier and the cooler and all his working day

He weathers the whir and the wittering, then

Takes his lunch to eat in the park across the

Way. The light makes colours on the water.

He eats and watches it dance, like someone

Has cast a handful of diamonds that scatters

And ripples in time to the music of the

Hours, and he chews and watches, an unlovely

Man contemplating a sight too lovely

For him to bear, or want, to think about.