Sandwich Deal

The ‘meal deal’ was ugly
a depressed-looking cheese and pickle sandwich, fizzy drink
with a side of crinkle-cut sodden chips.
A guy with a vivid facial scar attacks his as if it might be
his last meal ever
then again, maybe he knows something I don’t!

I like sitting here, watching the people, this is
life at its rawest.
Young mothers, old mothers, kids without parents,
lovers, grannies,
men with bald heads, women with bad breath
drunks, addicts – they all come here
to sit, whilst filling their lonely, disappointed, faces.

How many make it out alive, stepping back into
some form of meaningful life.
I wonder which of them I will
see again tomorrow, same place
same time -
each of us a sandwich short of a full belly
nourishing our regular daily existence –
on the ‘meal deal’

of that day….