Tuesday, July 19, 2011


It keeps bursting away
From itself, like the universe,
Suns like prices
Rise faster
Than in other places
The hours seem fewer
Than twentyfour
The return home
Takes longer
Than the arrival
Hot words are
Exchanged with strangers
On the run
The face and fury
Forgotten at the next signal
Buses, trains are remembered
For the eyes you look out for
And the eyes which look out for you
Sundays seem sweeter than anywhere else
When you can sleep a little longer
Set the clock to your village pace
And savour the slow dance of the city.

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