Eyedropping
There's a guy,
short, light
grey pinstriped suit,
expensive.
Black curly hair,
gel.
Talking on a cellphone
with his right hand,
supermarket bag,
no,
department store,
in the other.
His hips pulse
rapidly to
the left,
the bag
swings revolutions
around a bollard.
He talks,
intent,
a
circulatory
conversation.
2 comments:
i love getting up in the morning and seeing a new poem from you, it's a great way to start the day
x
I liked this very much!
I admit I had to look up the word "bollard", though!
I always enjoyed your writing!
:)
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