- Early Morning

Rushing, waiting, strolling by, they go the way I go,

the daily cast of characters I see but do not know.

A ginger girl who takes her dog to do what doggies do

and on her pudgy finger swings a little bag of poo,

a crumpled, beige, deflated man so crushingly alone,

perhaps a sad librarian or lowly office drone,

that dapper, pigeon-chested gent so elegant and grand,

at four foot two a ringer for the mayor of Munchkin land,

the gloomy Pole who sometimes brings another Pole along,

his spirits clearly lifted by his murky mother tongue,

the beauty salon lady with the wood preserver tan

displaying all the beauty care a fifty-something can.

the careworn carer trudging off down grim suburban roads

another day of changing beds and emptying commodes,

Amongst this throng

I saunter along -

same faces,

same places,

same cogs in the machine,

shackled to routine.

All stick to the tradition

- no hint of recognition.

Don’t catch an eye.

just scurry by.

Walk,

don’t talk

or nod.

Thank God

Because smile, nod, nod, smile

would get pretty tiresome after a while

just to say Hey -

we go the same way

every day.

Yay.

Why pretend

you’re someone’s friend?

or risk an erroneous Hello

to some bloke you don’t know?

We seem to get on very well

in isolated parallel.

So there goes

Beardo,

Wierdo,

Boozer,

Loser,

the fella with the psycho eyes,

the lady with the thunderthighs

and lots of folks I’ll never know

but go the way I go.

Thanks for the walk. I enjoyed going along your way and seeing all those people. Well done Sir.