Gerald Dawe, 9 March 2006
for Kevin and Eve
When the street has gone all so quiet except for the police car that whizzes up and down at the same time every night –
when the timbers jolt and the radiators click-click and the action of the clock gets ready to strike – I stumble across a blustery waste ground,
a cliff face, a dozen streets of little houses, under a full moon, blinded by the light of a door...