When the rain arrives
We cross the road
Without looking
Lock a glance into
Wrinkled eyes that
Peep out from behind
Spectacles
Over masks
Under hoods
With scarves which spill
Down to hands
Encased in reused
Latex-free sagging gloves
Clutching shopping
On the way back from
A leg ulcer redressing
The lower deck of the bus
Is for them
And remains
Unchanged
But upstairs is emptied
Of the midday gin can drinker
Goading her despairing
Children just to make
Her mate laugh
They claim she took their
Chocolate buttons
No they are not here today
They are behind a door
Behind a door
A door
