Drugs sold here

Drugs sold here


They turn slowly at dawn,
toes pointing west,
heels hailing the east.
They twist at the end of laces
strung over wires. What desires
they once held, now bleached
by the breeze.
Like a mobile,
one sneaker braced at the top,
they declare this alleyway to be owned
by those who sold out of their soles:
leather, rubber and cotton.
They sigh, an invitation to buy,
a warning to leave,
addicted to dawn.


© Kåre Enga

[162.740] 2006 january