It's funny it never seemed to rain.
Jumping the cracked ones
Past Muggsey's old man sitting, spitting twist
Purple patches in a circle
The parameters of his journeying.
Air seemed to leak out everywhere
When he breathed, like a punctured tyre.
"Hello old But" coughing louder, harder.
I was twenty cracked ones down when he finished gagging and wheezing.

The old ones all sat outside
In the long dry terrace
Staring at the black pit
Spitting in black harmony
Creaking and leaking air.