by Richard Wink
Half in love with strange noir scenes
moths flutter
instead of butterflies
paranoia is replaced by mystery
Stupid graces
muttered humming
scared
feasting from apprehension
the hassle
and ease that a hand
glides over marble
Showing posts with label Richard Wink. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Richard Wink. Show all posts
January 26, 2009
Ken who had bad lungs and a dodgy ticker
by Richard Wink
On the slope stood a man with a rumbling stomach
he eyed the café with an air of resignation
the place could have been a mirage.
Up until closing time where the food would be open
to him as he foraged like an urban fox
through the black bin liners that contained
relatively fresh cakes and sandwiches
He ran away with his find before the back light
turned on, the tills inside were cashed up
and it was home time.
The man never knew every evening he was watched
on CCTV,
the staff were never bothered, the leftover food would only
go to waste
On the slope stood a man with a rumbling stomach
he eyed the café with an air of resignation
the place could have been a mirage.
Up until closing time where the food would be open
to him as he foraged like an urban fox
through the black bin liners that contained
relatively fresh cakes and sandwiches
He ran away with his find before the back light
turned on, the tills inside were cashed up
and it was home time.
The man never knew every evening he was watched
on CCTV,
the staff were never bothered, the leftover food would only
go to waste
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