intelligence still booting

up and walking
morning early
gravel eyed
intelligence booting

i reach the pavement
there's a girlchild
walkman dumb
step aside nerves

bins displayed
mine's not
turn back
to promenade trash

she looks at me
her arm
pointing across
to someone else's car

I say "that's not mine"
she says "wot?"
I say "that's not my car"
she says "I didn't say it was"

and the bus stops

image: poem

2K3:6

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