neon salt
2am, Streatham High Street, London
last night
someone’s headphones
leaking drums
fake gold reflections
sliding across
the bus windows
a single acid bassline pumping
in only two ears
synth lines singing
in time to the bell
some toes tapping
screwed up faces
angling away
through dirty windows
streatham high street
calling our names
phones screens blink
pulling necks bent forward
blue-tinged flashing
ghosting tired skin
a single bell
no one
gets up
fried chicken neon
sliding over rainwater
grease filled
paper cones
misted windows
holding back the night
memorising faces
golden-lab tail
sweeping the floor
sharp corner
half the carriage shakes
suddenly remembering
where they were
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All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery
Shouldn’t be surprised, but once again you display such strong fidelity to observation, Mark.
Your bus is a packed vessel of broken/destructive contemporary consciousness: headphones, phone screens, neon reflections. All of them are begging for attention, but in accrual they generate this uncomfortably composed atmosphere.
sophisticated sensory detail reads almost like urban impressionism. The individual lives & specifics are unnecessary to portray meaning. final line is crazy good, that lurch of the carriage is a moment of collective awakening, reminds me a lot of when the elevator stops in my apartment building & everyone finally looks up from their phones.
Killed it once again
Such a relatable piece I felt like I was on the bus with you 😃