I slowly ground to a halt

on the intersection of the Holy Corner, my mind

blowing hard on Paradise and Whitechapel,

Lord Street and Church, I was crossed

on all sides, spectacles, tentacles, wallet and watch

and the Friday night throng of people passed me by,

invisible, concealed by own thoughts of the weekend ahead

and disguised by looking aimless, a waste

of space and noticed only as being in the way,

get out of the way, get out my way,

the unseen only sighted when they dare make a noise.