A figure walking through a screen:
Manhattan ice with canyoned bikes.
A disused notion, painted flat.
A sound is sound, discarded, drowned.
So he – or she (whichever suits) –
Will leaf the city streets and find
A blanket ministry of cool,
Of heads in shades and open tops.
The poster slips from wall to wall,
Its message drips, she waits for change.
He waits, and walks, and there unbreaks
The cast off wheel of summer’s drag.
A summer in another’s mind.
What’s lost is lost: the seeker finds.
Inspired by the “combines” of Robert Rauschenberg (with a title written whilst listening to Radiohead)