KRISTINA RUNGANO

LONDONERS


We huddled on street corners

Coughing like hags

Feet suffocating in great big leathers

Rooted in muck and slime

The smoke from our cigarette butts

Escaping into the already scented air

And finding freedom amongst its friends

The unmistakable aroma of urine and uncleanliness.

Where once our skin had known the softness of youth

Now lay chunks of flesh

Taut and fibrous

Stretching like used twine

As it built a wall against wind and cold

Our noses twitched;

Trembling lips went dry; unsmiling

We looked into each other’s eyes where pain lay

Silent and cold;

Someone belched

And released a load of last night’s merriment

Last evening we had known bliss in pubs

And in the morning light;

Souls loitering in weary bodies

We held each other close

And looked to the approaching bus

Which we scrambled into

Our jeans scrubbing in the metal railings

Till we found solace in the upper deck

Where herds of cattle might have passed on sand.

We peered through the dust for seats

And there stretched our legs and laughed

For we knew not how death haunted us

Such was the gift of civilisation!


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