August 2022

The queue, two double decker buses long,
Straight like a thirty centimetre ruler, was for
Hot dogs, rose red, wrapped in white
Grease proof paper. The metal cart was like
An old train, struggling along
– There’s only so much a person can do.
The steam kept rising higher.

This was one of those good dreams;
New York looked like the one in Heroes:
It was just another day because
The exploding man never went off,
Never blasted away skyscrapers,
Ruined the water system, air.
I remember a smiling couple in business suits
Walking towards me, then past me instead of
Through me.
The other customers dispersed and disappeared
Into shop windows, the road.

I joined the line, moved quickly to the middle
Then the front
All the way from the back,
Only to find I had no money on me!
I never got to try
What could have been
My favourite hot dog.

Sigh Wan