Poem 1 – Flyer

The lights turn in my favour
I walk along
“Would you do me a favour?”
I want to say…

But your windows are wound up
Your lives are separated from mine
There is no work
There is no work

Do you think this is my dream?
To hand out flyers
To an unwilling audience
Sometimes I wish this tar would swallow me up

A deal pasted on this paper.
Could I perhaps…
Strike a deal with you?
Please make my day, and wound down your window;
And at least: greet me, warmly.