Bring me sunshine

 

 

It’s bitter walking to the post office

And I’ve acknowledged at least a dozen faces

I’m acquainted with  

 

Despite the deep depression

I’ve never seen this street so rammed

 

Even the queue for fish is ridiculous

 

And there are long lines at each cash point

Where again I have to nod and smile

 

Smile

 

Despite the wettest April on record

And a promise of more to come

 

The post office is bustling

With mother's mostly

And a baby screaming itself crimson

Fractures my thoughts

 

I collect a passport form and leave

 

Outside on the street

Something with dead haddock eyes

Holds out a hand for change

 

I wave it away

Then pull my collar up over my ears

 

As the first of that forecast drops like bombs.

◄ Cold case

Repeat performance ►

Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 11th May 2012 17:32

'Outside...a hand for change' is chilling, followed by '...drops like bombs'. IMO, in your work, the exactly obvious is never what you're really saying, even if you think it is. Whatever - what you choose to see and do and write about greatly interests my mind.

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