Tollcross
He stops
half way across the street
head half turned in the direction
of oblivion
eyes half focused on a distant miracle
or an atrocity it is hard to say
mind half way between fire
and the idea of warmth
hand half way between his pocket
and a passerby
mouth half way between a sip
and a swallow
trousers half undone
bottle half empty.
He's young.
He's been stopping
half way across the street
for years.
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