It became a game
to walk out at any random hour,
and end up across the dirty river
facing the rumps of office towers and facades.
Stringy, blue threads plucked from fish,
ditched on the pavement by
predators intent on a quick meal
but disturbed by unsuspecting intruders.
My dead black boots urging against the
suck and pucker of the foul mud.
(one of my own)