Member Poem

Her high cheek bones
And hair tied back
Tight.
Her black leather jacket
Sullen.
She sits in front of me
As the bus pulls away
I’m too small and boring
In a too small and boring town

Time has swallowed my dreams
And there’s nowhere to go
Only over the edge
And there’s no more to give
Only the final memory of a memory of a memory of a …….

The sun is hot through the pane
We cross a bridge
And a still river
Offers a stiff reflection
Of a dead town
The homeless lie on their lives
In broken doorways
And I think
How do you get there?

We keep moving
Out of town
She pops headphones in
Then opens a book

How do you get anywhere?