is fraught with issues, I scope out shops with small
queues. A
bakery/coffee shop near my house sells sublime olivey-cheesy twists. Windows too fogged up to see
inside, I have to open the door to check the territory; two masked women clearly waiting their turn, to the side a man, his queuing status unclear. My specs as fogged as the windows I ask him if he's queuing - no response, the man is not
wearing a mask but does have headphones, he stands, swaying, mute and I realise that he must have teleported his mind to another planet.
Friday Poem
-
King of the River If the water were clear enough, if the water were still,
but the water is not clear, the water is not still, you would see yourself,
slip...
2 hours ago