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Nighthawkes
II
The empty line of the street ends here.
A glass cage café
Open onto this deserted corner.
Shrouded in blank shop facades
That dissolves in shadows.
Inside, the hard light
A shining chrome urn
Splinters the bare white walls.
Along the smooth curves of the counter
His hard hunched shoulders
Her heavy dark eyes lowered
Nameless in grey suits
and the grey blades of their trilby’s.
Predators
Among the café’s paraphernalia
And their self enclosing arms.
© David Loffman
17 November 2007
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