Early morning walk, it’s cold and dark,
but no wind, like horses I don’t like bluster
stronger than a summer breeze,
the kind that caresses the hair of my forearm in June.
A town isn’t really dark, street-lamps and
light from window see to that,
but there are deep shadows,
crevices of the nocturnal,
where light doesn’t reach,
forbidding back alleys
where terror rules
and monster rats hunt cats.

I look much bigger than I am in my parka,
the woman walking quickly behind me
crosses the street to walk on its other side
all the while looking over her shoulder
to see if I’m following her
and I wonder what type of job she’s got,
most likely low paid cleaning work at an office
strange world really the more unsociable
and hard work some people have to endure
the lesser their pay.

Shadows pale now, the morning is here,
the first rays of sun hits the top windows of a block of flats
and for a moment it looks, as there is a fire.
More cars on roads and more people about, voices.
The char is now busy cleaning halls,
rats have retreated back into sewers,
licking cat-blood off their faces
before copulating with hate in their hearts,
while I sip tea at a corner café.