you don't see it
it's packed out of town
in houses with no furniture
waiting for cheques that come by post
handed out by the invisible
watched over by shadows
kept in files and case histories
you know it by its bus routes
by what the shops are selling
by lettuce leaves by mushroom stalks
by bargains and poundstretchers
betting shops and lotteries
by well dressed children that cry
by how many seagulls are out looking for food
and how many dogs are out leadless
too many hairdressers
and not enough cafes
by out of date community posters
by social clubs with locks
broken windows with bars
and policemen who stay by their cars
by murals gone faded
sofa beds costing only forty five quid
and people who are friendly
but on their own
who talk as if they know you
and are used to not being heard
by women with babies and no prams
and the men in the park who smoke
and watch toddlers
by women with prams and no babies

First published in the anthology Red Sky at Night, Five Leaves Press, 2003.