set around the perimeter of

a small supermarket carpark,

like an angry crowd waiting

for some shit to happen,

row upon row of identical

angular boxes with single aspect

sloping roofs jag at the sky like

the teeth on an upturned saw blade,

~

built recently and rendered in cream,

they now boast a damp smoked grey

pallor like the nearby bus shelters,

many of the windows seem to be

dressed with repurposed tea towels

used as poorly hung curtains,

~

in the middle of it all

a supermarket where nobody

seems to use a bag

ambling looters in slippers

none wearing coats,

~

the only other signs of life, the

parched saplings, left for dead in

their own square metre of mud

amongst the tarmac,

but there is colour here, the lime

green electric scooters dumped

where the flowers should be,

~

it’s a local centre but at the

centre of what?

 

© Graham R Sherwood 02/25