HE S21. 6

You hide beneath a table in Totnes,
not too far risen past Warland,
and we watch small dogs, white linens,
waify songbirds and electro
pour from gaped windows.
They call it Mangetout,
it sells coffee.
An artist sets up shop
beneath the only tree in eyeline.
They start school today,
your friends, swapped soft play
for soft, same colour jumpers.
We've become part of the faction,
your legs outstretched, resting
in the shade of that tree,
much like a dog,
waiting for your 'cino.
We're off to play with rare breeds,
you aren't far off a rare breed
and I wonder if I'm doing the right thing,
if my quirks and biases
will become yours,
chained down by them
or blessed with flight,
opportunities you otherwise
wouldn't have been given
if you'd been boxed in,
walled.