Charlie and I walked our post-cancer walks
Down this narrow stretch of green in the city
For a full decade. We aged together
But not like malt, we blended into each other,
Man and Dog. He recognized the smells, me the sights,
And his life was shorter than mine. That afflicted me like
A sentence. Very few minutes pass
Without me thinking of that.  He connected me to the
Pack, little knowing that the human herd is what I find
Most offensive, most absurd. I try to fly past those nets
Of race, nationality and religion. A new Daedalus come
To cry: “my medium is the heavens, my medium is the sky.”
But we walked slower and slower each day, me clearing
Up his shit, him watching the dreary Manchester sky.