There’s a place for me in the sun

by Luke Otley

There was the bus

beastly, pulling up

I sprinted, nimble in my winkle-pickers

thinking ‘ahh, there she goes’

in a lurching, twerking cloud of fetid stink

 

It’s funny; in your rushed make-up

lines climbed around your eyes like the

footprints of tiny sea birds

in a riverbed

‘Two winters is too long’, I thought

There must be

a place for me

somewhere

in the sun