Four curved iron legs,a foam seat and a back rest keep it complete . I accept it isn’t anything unique i only want to ponder on its peak – the strength that wills this errorless control- inaction surely sloped into its soul; the way it stands defiant of all sound the way it keeps its sanctity of ground i fancy i am resting on a mound nourishing a whole civilisation underneath .
My technique is to grip one side real hard while sinking in the blessing of its lard (it’s mindy-vacumn drinks me in this way ) one hand i save to flag that emblem day when breaking thru what all i may regard i dare not stand in (what i know) my way .
The man pushes the other man in a wheelchair Down a dreary Salford road, avoiding kerbs, talking Always talking, talking of nothing, talking of everything, What it takes and never gives back. The load. With wheels of fire and halos