Millennium Bridge I tread the deck of midnight, docked between the city's past and its tussle with tomorrow. A feral crew dodges the loom of all-night lights. Reach out and feel the dank breath of the river, shadowstep and no one's there. But look! Beside the parapet: some cutpurse off with another's change. And here's a master mariner, land-queasy as he checks his lines, impatient for the tide. And now, here comes the present, the swagger and lurch of youth, totter of late night heels, awash with alcohol and hormones all at sea as they make for home. Mike Barlow iii. iv. |