Alun valley runs from the village down to Porthclais
harbour. The higher road, on the SE side, confusingly
called Lower Moor, is straight and wide, attracts
most of the traffic, and is not so dreamy as the parallel
lane – the lane I've strolled a million times. Today,
I don't want to walk it, or see it – best left alone
The benches in the square
have got new wood.
On street corners,
hit by remembrances,
in no particular sequence,
in shops, restaurants, pubs,
I try to fit myself in.
The newest place,
The Old Sweet Shop,
reminds me of when I was a kid
playing Monopoly,
buying and selling,
throwing dice.
When your luck runs out
you respect luck from the past
or maybe the other way round.
~ ~ ~
I think he is not from the city
a town perhaps
where he is king
or a suburb that names itself
but is not
the city
His skin is unbroken
He walks with certainty
If you want true love
let the city love you
~ ~ ~