two men: sitting opposite across a table stare at a common wall, lost deep. fiddling, brothers separate
loss of Rabelaisian appetite, mourning a drink.
Night kneels leaving only the ticking of a cheap, borrowed, alarm-clock
to wake at seven and stretch before river mists cover the view. To yawn as mid-day draws to close: smell of baking bread from an open window
he and it & forgotten, a figment resting on the flick of stone-grey granite chunks into holes.