oh,
wretched double-tap,
single handpress leaves a faint map I don’t want to travel
a broken fate line and couple hundred sweaty whorls,

quick, eyes assume gaze at ’bottom of car floor’,
(which needs a good vacuuming seems to me)
and daily ’aloof’ act is begun once more.

a hurried knuckle-knock follows,
eyes have consulted the lit-up signal,
’n bare feet sense
failed motorbike kickstarts gain momentum
with suzuki revs resonating across
their asphalt home.

so stubborn,
traffic-weathered
all of me
doesn’t budge
an inch.

as it’s hand-shadow fades out
in the sudden lurch of
gear one,
i realize
it was the smallest shadow i’d ever seen...