Sheffield fragment

Deserted by 9 PM, South Yorkshire’s gone home

Leaving the city chatter-less

trams crossing over large roundabouts

and Vincent’s (?) face splashed across a 4 storey brick wall.

Next day at the UKBA

a man, polish, trying to be heard

by the English know-it-all but really-know-nothing he’s been allotted to.

whole families spending their day in sarkardom – the Indians feel much at home

their kids fling themselves with glee at a vast concrete column

It stands silently black and granite-clad, as they shrieked high pitched

and run madly around it.

The security guard, never having met a terrorist, smiles indulgently at them

and tells me sheepishly to take a swig out of my water bottle

just in case.

Case-workers at windows, alternatively sunny and dour

Luck’s fickle. This could take all day.

Among other things, I learn that children like my face, but I never know what to say to them.