They have lamplight here in this street were few people walk after five, safe for the man who has to take his dog for a walk, the dog knows the man has too and enjoys this brief sense power, pull on its lead forcing the man to walk faster then his heart likes.
A plastic seat under a lamp, I'm so very tired, have been walking for forty years. I when my wife died, she didn't live long- no children- there weren't anything to keep me at home. After some time some I noticed a man following me he had nothing else to do and latched on to me.
A plastic chair, you could think that after all this years I deserve something better than a sweaty backside on a chair made of oil shit. 'I've nowhere to sit,' said the man who made it his life worth to follow me around. I didn't answer for the simple reason, I couldn't care less.
'For forty years I have been coming here and hoped that something dramatic would happen like you would fall under a bus.' 'No such luck I'm your annoying brother and I always do the right thing only crossing the road at Zebra crossings.
There was a speeding truck noisy brakes, I didn't look back. I sit on a plastic chair under a street light and read lines from a play I wrote forty years ago, my bum aches, have called my brother cell phone there is no answer
