slow, steady (brislington hill, bs4)
journeys and places, like people, seem strange at first. so many strange people and places.
do i stop to see reflections and hear echos? do i care to understand unorthordoxy to me? do i reach out and… touch?
homogenous shopping complex – always talking / not saying very much. i could be anywhere.
west town lane: independence regained. i sit, testing an elastic-band; wrapping a world around the palm of my hand… open.
pick dust + gravel. a sulking path, i growl at the art deco jumped-up dog. to ground, into light glistening over runny road.
traffic fights and cement bombs; railings weigh and windows crop energy.
“my legs are sore but i still have hearing. my eyes are weak but i remember… please be careful of the cars turning, dear”.
“i will, thank you.”
onto, up, over the bridge. stopping halfway to peer nervously one way, then the next, at flow motion, below. at fingers on wheels and thumbs on laps. at familiar heads, fair hair and floppy hats.
young sun-dial dies an early death…
“are you still serving lunch?”
to decide: choose a seat and predict the sky and earth to meet over a visceral mahavishnu beat; only ever in my head (til the weight’s off my feet).
“what’s it like around here?” i ask lady irene, “local life: reality, hope and fear?” until my plate was empty and the sky had almost cleared…
“… so we live moment to moment. so we hope for a bus route, removed railings, some green. so we fear it may never happen. so we live moment to moment.”
i would like to return.
for now – down the slope, around the corner and up.
i find vantage and sit without shot. i’m looking west, eyes shut…
… from the sun: irene. on her way home, with familiar smile and lilting tongue.
thanks for reading. don’t forget the sun + take care, k((o))