Mustn't say this and mustn't say that,
thinking of doing a disappearing act
like the girl who fell through the floor.
There is no-one here on the road.
In the houses the lonely dogs bark.
For a moment outside there were silent men
shovelling snow.
I went out my gate and smiled,
there was barely a note of recognition
in my neighbours of ten years, more, twenty some of them,
twenty years side by side and not one hello or anything but a blank face.
My good soles are worn out so I was even slower than might have been on the ice in the twilight plodding carefully down to the part of the hill where the road turns up again towards my house, snug behind one of the last hedges left standing, arched and high. This evening.
Someone started throwing snow balls. Someone silent in the shadows throwing large hard balls that hit the ground around me most of them. Till they found their range. I was crying, isn't that silly, crying in the dark, not walking faster because of the ice, not shouting because there were no words but memories of spit flying, and stones, and blood in the sand, walking in it all the way home.