man unsure with ice-cream

slide on through
or stand still
and let the warm breeze
hover and stare
like a fluorescent
reminiscent of a
man unsure
with an ice-cream
at a petrol station

it’s not really night
some rumour
spread by the sunset
lost on the souls
inside
like holes beside
the road
near the beginning
there’s no light
just the sound
of the floating cars

please go home now
it’s not right
to stay here
paused waiting
like a streetlight
it’ll be alright
something like the last bus
forlorn on a path worn
smooth and dreamy
no stars
no need when the speed
of travel to get there
and unravel
the tv guide
a better way to hide
anyway

what must be going
through her head
in a strange bed
far away dreaming
either side of now
where the buzzing
of the inert
the one hurt
so long ago
last week
in fact
i’ll look it up
in an ice-cream cup