ON THE bench




a pentagonal space

I see no one

and no one sees me…

…Everywhere I look there are empty benches. Some single, some huddled together, some in need of a dust down or a lick of paint. Bright sun shines down on the empty, dusty, saturated streets. In the city’s silent skies the birds are singing their hearts out. I feel joy and fear in equal measures.

Sitting on separate benches,

Leng on one, me on the other,

we chat to stay sane.