They sit around in the cold air and stare.
They are looking somewhere.
Somewhere far, somewhere near, anywhere, but here.
And empty tables of half cupped tea scatter around me.
Dirt clings to flowers so false sitting in jars so white I fright.
Dump sugar in tea and watch it dissolve, like the day filled with minutes and hours waiting for resolve.
And we feel it coming. Sudden, sharp, clear.
Fold up our collars and pull our jackets near.
It sweeps the streets clean with icy sheen, taking with it our memory, sprinkling it over sea.
We walk on.
'Body wrap on tap', 'cut-a-dash hairstyle mash', 'klein-jans biltong' and 'mary-jane's skanky thong'.
The walls close in as we witness winter begin.
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