Damaged (in Derby)
First thing, beside the Costa on the corner
Serving up skinny lattes and complex cappuccinos
Steamed and foaming milk
And convivial warmth of cakes and coffees
Lies a man wrapped up in dirty blankets
Lifted from the pavement by a doorway step
His tousled unkempt hair
Sits atop a tired grubby face
His dreaming dog asleep beside him
His begging hat but thinly graced by coins
When two acquaintances appear from round the corner
And badger him back to unwanted wakefulness
Disappearing down the alleyway
They re-emerge shambling and refreshed
Eyes like shining diamonds
Perfect pinpricks of concentration
Mumbling something incoherent
Hands and arms working slowly
To counteract the shivering
Poundland and the betting joints
The amusement arcades and the charity shops
Are early thronged with needy punters
And the Closing Down Sale signs flutter in the breeze
A metro-bus signed Sorry Not In Service
Sweeps past the standing shoppers
The crossing’s red light warning not to walk
Across the street a woman calls out
Loudly coarse and raucous
Addressing no-one in particular
Wrapped within a world of her own making
Hauling bulging bags of clothing
And dragging a broken shopping cart
With its insistent squeaky wheel
Crying out across the morning
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