There once was a girl with blue-tits
Standing on the corner
Of a dirty street
Letting them sing in the lamplight
At half past five on a wet autumn eve.
Lucky to have them
Printed on nylon, somewhere
In China in colours to match hers.
Lucky to be there, at the dirty
Street corner, no care but getting
Wet through the wet autumn eve.
Moving into the twilight
She breathes holes in
The air, past the day’s paninis
Left out by Cafes for tramps to eat
On loose-knit streets
Paved over fields, gradually, down
Decades, first cobbles then tarmac,
Bits of both, interweaved, gum daisies
Sprouting pink and yellow and green
Through each kink-
About to cross the road
The blue-tits stop singing but
She ignores their hiatus and makes
For the van, white, common type
The blue-tits go red and
Death fills the street.