On leaving my car
Pulling close to the curb.
They drop for drives like dolphins at play.
The Gary tarmac stained as snow fell.
Coming close are two stories,
disheveled and apart like a broken hart
Trouser legs with the last inches missing,
whitish socks, no plats in the matted locks.
Like a charcoal drawing that’s been smudged with a hand,
the smile has gone and eyes deprived.
Leading the chase some meters head,
inconveniencing him, he thinks of 3.30 at chesptow instead.
No gentle whisper just bellows!
The cold old wind gives the school bell some soul.
One I can’t respect.
The other I try to connect.
What was said behind closed doors,
maybe hug packed lunch or love.
The snow still falls,
they pass bye,
hello, goodbye, good luck