Everybody here is beautiful,
Even in the rain,
Eager, gentle, noble faces,
Peer out from underneath,
Bicycle helmets,
Like Grecian statues,
I know them all,
Though they are strangers to me,
Young full of brightness,

A crowded bus in muggy weather,
Negotiates steadily the slippery streets,
As one person asks after another,
“Do you go to the railway station?”
We have been circling the hospital,
For hours,

Behind blue railings and blue,
Pedestrian glass shelters,
Blue seats and blue frames,
Blue folders hugging blue badges,
The blue ink in my blue pen,
Will I ever get to the UL?

Park and ride takes off like a hurricane,
Pre-paid head start,
Here we sit,
Flooded by waves of faces,
Injuries, elderly, foreign languages,
People on journeys,

Starting again,
Around we go this,
Merry-go-round of public transport,
Shaded by the burgundy and green,
Heavy leaves of trees in spring,

Arab perfume,
Polish consonant clusters,
Spied on by a freckle armed man,
In a white transit van,
Who looks fond of pastry,

Roads named after poets,
Pulling over before we have even begun,
But this journey never fatigues me,
The tedium of life has never,
Touched this place.

—

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