On my way back, a balloon preceded me;
a red balloon wafted its way down the street
drunken and listless. An advertisement flashed
for a moment, giving the balloon away
as an escapee from a closing down sale
like the striped clothes of a jailbird.
On my way back, an elderly gentleman approached me;
an elderly gentleman walked to the shops
purposeful and expectant. He moved aside on the pavement
and I thought he was getting out of the balloon’s way
but then he kicked it towards me
like we were playing football.
On my way back, I played football
with an elderly gentleman and a balloon.
I got it back to him with a knee and he missed
with his first kick, but tapped it as it passed
with a little flick of his sandaled feet.
It’s funny, the people you meet these days.
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