The Other Side. by Jonathan Butcher

Dawn in this city is never crowded, but the remnants

of gangs and couples litter this tiny park. I awake upon

both the grass and concrete, slowly merging into this

morning like leaking oil into grit filled puddles.

Those buildings and shops that never scrape skies yet

stand with the same pride as twenty years ago. They stand

sandwiched between the rubble filled abandoned car parks,

and the bars that never seem to open when required.

No wall here is too grey, the paint work as alive as this

lit street at midnight, never stained by the smog and bile.

The shadows cast here are almost translucent and out of

focus, the pavements never claim foot prints; no soles ever

burnt.

The blank eyes that now pass at this time never make contact,

and retain any secrets held, repudiating any reprehensible  

myth making as the first bus of the day hisses slowly past

and once again leaves behind that inhaled cloud of dust.

Jonathan Butcher is a poet based in Sheffield, England. He has had work
appear in various print and online publications including: Plastic Futures, Sick-Lit,
The Transnational, The Morning Star, Mad Swirl, Picaroon Poetry, Amaryllis
and others. His second chapbook 'Broken Slates' has been published by 
Flutter Press.