North Bridge, Edinburgh
An impressive Jackson Pollock splat
of puke decorates the pavement
in the exact centre of the bus shelter;
buses slide like glaciers
outlined against a volcano.
Now let's explore the topography:
an array of clock towers emerge
from the rock formations,
the galleries by the mound are a picture,
light's angle polishes a hundred glittering windows -
diamonds in no need of a crown -
though you can still make out behind some
the blurred shapes of mannequins,
They can be seen in sharper detail
on the stroll down through Princes Street:
staring out, hands by sides, full bodies tensed
so hard they could snap
at any point.
s'pure nippy as hell mutters one teenager to another
as they walk past a grand old statue, capped
by a heart-warming traffic cone.
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