I walked all afternoon until the sun cracked a thing more fragile than a face 

I saw them on their phones always waiting for love

like it was a strange gossip

I've stopped walking to write a sudden thought poem 

the thought gets lost in the process

I cross the river and bathe my feet

Writing on the hoof is prone to typos

I watch tourist map to there destinations

Being alone is a form of temporary happiness

Our futures are wating in the precision of algorithms

I wipe my nose with Kleenex the dam pollen

makes me sneeze a poem over my shirt.