a point from last Thursday now etched in a line on my left hand

Palms up
I just don’t know
how he got here

recumbent in a sea
of gulls pulling at
crusts that an

old lady has spread
like happiness across
the pavement

in an effort to add
colour and kindness
to her morning

He holds his palm out
asking for one thing
my own doubt

obvious as I offer
him a hot drink or
a snack instead

He shrugs but smiles
thanking me and listing
lunch deal items

I redden and
wave my hands
in a gesture

that is empty of words
but replete with
body language

and sandwich filling
choices made for him
this man on the corner

of a street that
I walk down almost
every day of the week

The next time he
asks me for a Crunchie
he has remembered me

like a hand keeps
stories nooked in
the crannies of its skin

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2 thoughts on “a point from last Thursday now etched in a line on my left hand

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