Walthamstow Sunday

Lipstick on crumpled shirt collar
through rattled windows
yesterday’s news
strewn on polished pine
telling tales of a bombed desert

A protest singer
changing the time
heard through plastered walls
remixed by a beat boxed car
headed to the silver river
a mission to junk up the young

Coffee maker pumping in a kitchen
a visiting friend at the door
who carries flowers
Italian pastries

The coming hours
force her to dance on the spot.