& steam opening up the pores
hits the brain a rude slap

by the entrance to the park
the hedge is full of song

pour the coffee in the cup
bitter & with a hint of

granny’s house but her rock cakes
pour hot water on all this

nostalgia & they’ve cut the grass
only one side of the street

& the cats start early dashing
over roads before the traffic hits

& the day starts later &
later breath smells of old toothpaste

& a runner runs past phone
strapped to her arm electro pop

in ear buds the coffee makes
you sit straight up the nostrils

clearing the head of last night
& the harsh light of morning

slaps a squid on the table
you have to pull that hard

internal shell right out it’s inedible
as credit cards call it calamari

& everyone wants to eat at
the best Greek restaurant in town

where the word ‘pinny’ still hangs
on the hook at the back

of my brain I can’t see
those birds but they chunner on

of something dark brown add milk
start dreaming about the next cup



Steven Waling

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