Sitting above the ground, 4th floor,
window on the left frames a view of a tower,
silver and metallic,
satellites and aerials hang from it .
Invisible rays are beamed from here to the farest flung points of the globe,
invisible beams penetrating through walls,
concrete. The conduits and circuits
fizzing and buzzing like static and when you walk past the tower the hairs on your arms seem
to stand up to attention.
Birds fly a dizzying dance around the tower
flapping wings and shitting in mid flight. Surely a wonder of nature?
Shit falls to the packed concrete with a splat,
narrowly missing a blonde and her companion who is carrying a small brown paper bag that contains a brown bread salad sandwich. The women are oblivious to the fact shit is falling from the sky.
A courier shouts at a pedestrian and pedals off to deliver the news.
She walked out of a shop, punk rock hair, sushi pop music tight jeans smoking a cigarette like it was something she didn’t enjoy,
and her legs went up up up,
complexion as bland and empty as the Arctic tundra. In her non cigarette holding hand she had an ice cream and small drops dripped down the back of her thumb. I stare, maybe for second to long. She doesn’t see me. Her postcards home smell of vanilla.
I am sitting on a bench, immersed in the wintery shadows of a church. I am not religious, I don’t like stained glass or kneeling.
Sitting above the ground, 4th floor, the window on the left frames a view of a tower, silver and metallic.
I need to sleep and I swear I see cobwebs in the corners of my vision, cobwebs with dead spiders and tiny insects laying eggs, hanging there,
in the corner where the dust settles and I’m sitting on the bench in a park in the middle of a heaving metropolis where trains rubble along under my feet and planes fly over head and people just walk by drinking coffee.
In the news paper today:
a story about a man who lived in an attic for 45years,
a picture of three bears eating a monkey in a zoo,