Lunchtime Rush

Light on the street puddles,
Silver glinting on upturned aluminium.

A man in a wheelchair pushed by his wife
Points with his stick, leading:

Three oversized and dressed in grey and in a line together
Then one pink one purple
Hair permed in conversation
and hands in pocket bounce of kids
row of six eating pizza
laughing heads back free
as his bald head down to steady
slow the push against the wind,
a paper bag, blowing.

A man walks past
with feathers in his hat,
like a soldier,
from another time.

Three shadows talk the corner.
A young man bends to light a cigarette,
fluid, slow – a dance.

Then two hand in hand
And two walking sticks
Slowly one and then the other
And she shaking wired as she clutches at the phone
And he counting pennies,
Looking careful at his hand,
Like a soldier,
From another time.

Two old sticks.
A purple rain cap.
The street sweeper jacket bright.
All like a dance.

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