Sitting, dumped,

a young girl,

crumpled as a tissue

at the kerb.

Teen gangs swig

a communal can,

swagger their sway

past 2 for 1 booze offers,

as two lads flail fists

during 'Happy Hour'.

Eventually the sky

will make an aperture

of the moon,

await the light of day,

develop a picture of

vomit, can-clutter,

butt-ends and burger-trays;

oh,

and this poster on a

grimy church declaring-

'HE IS COMING, HE IS COMING',

with such a certainty,

a fingernail run over

this hard cold world,

may soon be mistaken

for a vapour trail

scratching the sky...........