High Street

Send us Fan MailHigh StreetShops, like old teeth, yellowing now, fading smiles, like dawn on a winter day, boarded up, shutters down, people giving’ up just walking around, no conversations, nobody got the time, leaning,against broken doors, no reason, just time, A few stores are open, long shadows stretching outside, dust and memories, what’s left of good times, high is the low, and low is the outgoing tide.A dog scratches, on the sidewalk, the bakery’s still open, on the corner, by the bus stop, someone calls from a window,‘Hey love,got time to talk?’ Turning around, ‘Do you mean me? She shouts back, ‘yeah, you, yes, I’ve slipped the mat over the key, c’mon up,’ she’s all blouse and fluttering, died hair, bleached in the sunlight, wanting something, perhaps nothingfrom someone,somewhere, I’m tempted to take a look, but the dog, he just lifts himself, reminds me I’m just turning around, like me,he’s biting his tail, chasing the litter at my feet, I walk on, past the church, the warehouse, the terraces in red brick, finding my way, walking along these unforgiving times,the high street,left abandoned,for another [email protected]