by SAMIRA STEPHENS
Stumble my way to the Pho shop down High St,
Tailgating the puffer jackets in front,
The kid behind me is begging for kebabs,
Mistaking them as Italian food,
Lucky Schmuck is going off tonight,
Someone’s forgotten their laundry,
A girl gang mocks me,
I’m free to feed on
A yellow Ferrari is locked in the dealership,
The only car I recognise.
An eshay with a marimekko sling
Is plummeting down the sidewalk behind me
I’ll continue to read maps from
their proximity to Chemist Warehouse,
Wishing my lines were more connected,
Not looking for reasons to feel afraid.