Saturday, 28 June 2008

Maverick

The cool touch of fog swept in. City sounds were dulled by it's creeping presence, lost in it's depths. The light faded and the pavement sheen became a dark unwelcoming mirror. 

Under this hidden sky, shoulders hunched, jaws clenched tight and mean with a poverty of words. Hands stayed clenched in deep frayed pockets, full of old dry crumbs and scribbled ancient lists worn smooth by the incessant worry of rough fingers with broken nails. Footsteps edged away into grey cobbled alleyways. A long and slow decline beckoned and dragged at sleeves.
 
I felt my heart's relentless little thunder. I struck a brittle match in the arc of my shielding hand. A wisp of wind blew it out and I walked towards a distant sound.