across the white bridge
orange fire still licks the horizon
traffic stopped, the people are walking
walking and turning towards the smoke
sunbathers capture the sun on their bodies
we walk, cycle, step in step together
across the river and down the white
stone steps where the rough sleepers sleep
and past the backs of the hotels
where smokers gather and parcel men find no-one
to take the parcel and all the while the sky
burns and the meteors rain down and little plastic
things people carry to speak and see bleep no news
about this exit over the river into the evening
to drink and talk and go homeward a different way
nobody runs
