Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Someone I Met in Manchester

Someone I Met in Manchester

My nose is running when I see him
squatting in Oxford Road.
His nose is running too,
but he doesn’t seem to know.


I wonder where he’s from.
What’s his name?
How did he get to this?
He looks very hard.


I wonder who he is.
How long has he been there?
He must be very cold.
Where does he get his clothes?


I wonder about his dog.
It must have a name.
How does he feed it?
Does he know I don’t know?


I wonder how much he gets.
Should I give him something?
Will he speak to me
apart from begging?


You hope he doesn’t.
But you know he will.
They always do, they have to.
“Any change mate?”


“Errr...no...errr sorry”
And you really are.
But you have some really.
You think he’s got a cheek.


You pass him by
with a sideways look,
and the niggling doubt
that he knows you have.


On Oxford Road in Manchester.

1 comment:

  1. I read this, this morning -it's spot on. You completely capture everything you think in the few moments you walk past someone who is asking for change. The exact questions and feelings as you approach them, as you make your apologies and as you walk on feeling guilty and questioning yourself and how everything works. I walk down Oxford Road a lot and think these things every time, yet I never do anything about it, I get to work and forget about it til the next time. Maybe I'm a bit shit, but I don't think I'm the only one. Nice one Ray :) Hope to read more soon x

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