Reproduction II

Every day
for an hour
I pick up papers in the park.

After one month I find
this single, unusual thing.

And here another poem
joins that flutter.


Whiff

Into cold winter days we step
our wool full
of odours from the last stop....
Gizelle a fruiterer's illicit rush of unseasonal

       peach & mango
Michael dark coffee from Carla's
& Marianne the slash of beauty shop acetone

These trails
like friendship
dissolve slowly in
the rain & wailings of the world

always hurrying
our hands caged
& passive in pockets.
Remembered rooms clutched tightly in frostbitten fists.