One Hundred and Sixty-One.


Izzy circle


watching the graceless curve of adolescent bodies bending into one another
taut, tensed and aware they swivel 320 degrees in every direction at once
checking to see if they’re being watched, but not quite aware
what impact their actions would have on the watcher

skins too big for their rubber bounce-back bones
floundering inside loose bodies
trying to find a way to stand that will fit

over-attentive boyfriend, arms like a vice around her waist
every lapse in conversation marked
with a smattering of lip stains across pale cheeks

trailing silver threads, searching for a mouth she might finally offer
the circle presses in, all friends here, all bodies one body
a mass that moves with fluorescent confidence and sweet kicks swagger
wrists clutching in monkey grip although no one is falling
dark circles under both their eyes.


Sarah circle


The crossing lights are clicking like a drunk crowd at a poetry slam
Slow and languid and totally out of time
Until the lights change, and this is the groove, man!
Applauding fervently, furiously, energizer bunny fast!
Til the colours tick over, and it’s back to the limp-fingered cigarette snaps



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