Lines on a toilet wall, Farringdon

“A different city with the sun on it,
Office buildings shudder, vomit

and purge themselves at 12.30

of worker, blinking, tired, dirty

To find a patch of sun striped space

to breath, and sigh and warm his face

simply relax, perhaps 40 winks

head sinks, eyes closed, he sits and thinks

Hour’s up.

So cleaning fingers, mayo’d thumbs

of swift, crammed sandwich, hasty crumbs

Reshoe, recentre, resteel the brain

reenter the belly of the beast again.”

Richard T Fennerman



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