paper thin

my shopping trolley
sleeping in tired canal water

rush hour traffic hums
rubber tyres dragging
yet nothing moves faster

something nicotine-green
beneath sunken wire

memories slipping through
some whiskey-cask brown
others tracing-paper thin

a lifetime of others clothes
hanging wet
holding warmth
against each day

static hum
old radio antenna clicking
in time to metal rungs

a blanket kept dry
buried deep inside
more than plastic bags
and empty food boxes
thrown aside

a photo held close

a smile from one

a disgusted glance away

yet

this stale bread is mine to keep
for my dancing pigeons
next to my bare brown-black feet

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Thanks to Linda Blatnik for the inspiration to take this piece from a note to a post.

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From now until the Summer Solstice on June 21st, paid subscriptions are 50% off.

If you’ve been enjoying these quieter pieces, this is a gentle invitation to step a little closer.

Somewhere to pause for a while.

Step inside.

I’m always open to thoughtful writing collaborations.

Something more from me?

Nothing truly leaves — it just changes how it stays.

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All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery