Walking to Wynyard Station

Balmy six o clock concrete and a bright shock to my chest
tastes like warm pressed
Shirt

Now go to the station
Dodge that bus avoid the cracks
Observe the freeness of the leaves
And the sensation of bitumen on leather

The sun is high
But currently I reside in the shade
Between tall old buildings
Some built for pride and others efficiency

No parking here
Narrowly dodging cars
While my sweat beads loom on the collar of my skin

Man charging down the street
Why does your hair wiggle and loop
Man with the umbrella
What madness possessed you on Such a sunny day

The Street crossing man of red stands tall resolute and he keeps us back
With no words no hand
Only custom

People bob hopping
Along to the station
Down to the clicking gate
To get a place in the end of day race
To jump on a train
To get back whatever distance and whatever way

Now sitting
At last homeward bound