Swing

A little Asian girl

smoking a cigarette

on a swing

at this time of the morning

instead of being on time for school.

An old man

from South London

been here 50 years.

Not the bus stop

although it feels like it.

He’s never worn gloves in this town, you know

not cold enough

unless he was nicking something

from posh people

who should know better

than leave the back door unlocked.

I step in a puddle

the only one for miles

which makes the girl laugh

as she falls backwards

off the swing.

The old boy waves at me

from the back of the bus

with his gloves on.

I feel a shiver as she winks.

My wallet is gone.

 

© Ash Cheyne – October 2018

 

 

 

 

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