xiii. punctuation some sketch their skater vapour trails in violent strokes dashes stops punctuation scratched in concrete slabs underneath the motorway looping up above their heads an arc an arch an archetype a road the vapours of the constant car fumes are ossified to bone to stone to concrete here the skaters hang they meet banished from the street they skate to the traffic droning like bagpipe skies no beat but a bleat of the gambolled ollie the supervisor watches chewing on his seat some low slung jeans a beanie i skate my longboard down my suburban street weaving s’s past the rows of neighbours’ cars mercedes escort mini saab i didn’t see the pile of rotting leaves an eight year old shouts over can’t you do it xiv. bones the rain has smudged the city sunday morning the winding curves of the multistorey car park now look fluffy around the edges i feel an urge to hug it yet i don’t i worry what i’d do if i learnt it was only bones an empty rib cage wrapping itself around itself enclosing spacious nothing such an empty word is nothing not a word you would embrace wholeheartedly instead i walk around the outside of the car park cars appear to enter wait a while and then they leave the cars are smudged as well although they try and wipe it clear from side to side inside are people whom i cannot see tinted vague yet one has left her car is walking now towards me i know her smudged and smiling face embrace her bones

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