Women walking in the park
'neath branches drenched in light
summer dresses, low cut tops
and smiles that invite
If destiny is manifest
and fate is set in stone
then nothing that you'll ever do
is down to you alone
Surge through the black,
like a ragged flood of wind
The past is at your back,
You don't notice it begin.
Dragging a ragged cloud of changed addresses and broken trust
Stumbling away from forgettable months
Defensively clinging to the name of a ghost
That stares accusingly from mirrors -
Don't go out again tonight,
to walk the streets alone.
Don't follow train-tracks til dawn's light,
That will not lead you home.
The first touch of the morning,
diesel fumes turning the frost-smell blunt.
last night's storm diluted
in the muted roar of the garbage truck in the next street
How long do you think you have left
until you die?
I was wondering if it really matters, not conversationally
but in the Grand Scheme of Things
She steps onto a packed train
the epicentre of a shockwave of faceless humanity
rippling out and away, shuffling back
from the mischievous flash of her eyes
Beneath the pale glow of a sky choked with clouds
where moonlight seemed merely suggestion,
Three of us walked through the wind’s muted rush
Under branches we’d climbed long ago.