The Door in the Centre of her Field


We are sitting in the Wimpy Bar in Swanage

It is getting dark outside and I begin to imagine

Edward Hopper’s famous painting Nighthawks

You are enjoying your wimpy and coke

And pretend not to notice me

I run my hand across the smooth plastic table top

And think of the skin that is hidden under your blouse

You kick me secretly under the table as you are sharing my thoughts