WE

Came around the corner: under the bridge from Kilburn tube

Saw hunched, a dark mass huddled on the paving stones,

People moving past,

                        To the side stepping

Faces away turning.

Could not see what it was.

Coming closer – had to take the bus from by the pizza hut –

            The shape sharpened, took on a form:

A man.

Face, hidden beneath the shocking hair, falling forward

Onto the chest

Squatting, trousers settled around the ankles

A thin dribble of shit still attached

Reaching from the floor up a strange architecture to his arse.

Marvelling at the pure construct, the stressed strands,

Stepped past, breathing hardly, whispering curses.

In the shelter, hidden among the faces look back:

            Still there,

                        Above him pigeons, dancers stepping through the spikes,

Cooing, moving to stand crowned above his head.

Faintly the sound of sirens.

He’s caught, the moment etched, sharpened static starkness.

Slowly lifts the head, hair slides back,

Eyes open,

                        catch:

                                    captured in that I we.