Thursday 16 August 2007
Eye Contact
Heading northbound on the Victoria Line, I sit opposite a goth. He has startlingly blue eyes and pale skin made wan by his dyed black hair. A slight air of effeminacy pervades. I stare. He catches me. We exchange a London smile; fleeting, eyes sliding off sideways. Handsome in his way, I am intrigued. He watches me now. The dance continues to Euston, where he alights.
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3 comments:
Ba rump bump. You wrote the dance. Amazingly well too.
Love this new blog, it reminds me a little of Haiku poetry ..
CEO
So well I didn't even realise!
Minxy
Thank you, dearie - so good of you to check it out.
It is indeed like haiku, I'm just too lazy, and too verbose to stick to seventeen syllables.
Puss
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