Fades to the edge of a crowded canteen,
Chainsmokes conversation whispering at himself,
Behind each friendly gesture fixates a subtle threat.
Walks home alone, sleeps rolling,
Dreams a ringing phone, trees, water,
Shadows stropping on a field of wheat.
Wakes each morning to next door’s radio:
It’s sudden bass counterpoints his heartbeat.
Sipping coffee, his morning paper opened
At page three, he smiles down at Janice
Just sweet sixteen then scissors out her
Eyes and nipples: weekends, sits in cafes
Watching girls pass by on the rain slicked
Streets, weekends sits alone and waits.
Kevin Patrick McCann
Illustration Nick Victor
From Still Pondering https://www.amazon.co.uk/Still-Pondering-Kevin-Patrick-McCann/dp