The streets itch with discontent,
The map was off centre all day.
Childish tears threaten to break through the adult face.
The stone walls sweat yesterday’s rain,
I pound the concrete with sticky heat between the layers of my clothes.
The lipstick curdles and I wipe it raw with paper.
Fingers bandaged from no fight,
I’m neither citizen or tourist just broken knees.
Guts cramping propel us from cafe to cafe.
Food sticks in my throat as I push it round the plate.
My hands tremble as they try to raise the cup,
Thick black coffee drives my blistered feet.
Something is not right in the world, I’m not quite here or there.
It’s ugly criminals saunter like they own the roads.
We ask ‘why are people so cruel?’
Then the man stops to pick up some other’s rubbish.
A women tends the silk and velvet with more love than she knows.
The smile of the woman on the bus is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
The flash from no camera, the sky opens and moans.
White then orange makes my heart pound.
‘Don’t walk on the floor with bare feet’ she says.
It makes me want to feel it’s force, to feel alive,
to take off my socks and dance with life on the cold tiles.
I bleed with the sky and prepare to begin all over again.
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