I am tired of the view down here every pavement my stage guttered with kerb sludge and fluttering crisp packet kites he arcs me left and right over asphalt through splinters of brown broken glass unblinking, I see him oblivious to the storm of stares in his wake listen as he thrums, his eternal humming, losing me then rescuing me, his eyes on the ground from one pavement crack after another, pausing for a moment, lost in a hurricane of hand flapping pressing me earthwards, pushing me onwards Sometimes I’ll skirt around shit sometimes not I'll clash with pedestrians take the hit so he doesn’t let him probe with me, push me off high kerbs into puddles like diving board to pool suffocate me in long grass burn, broil me on hot tarmac, sweeping me right and left, semicircular crescents carving space for his unsteady walk heel, toe, heel, toe with the sway of the weary or the drunk, clearing a path ahead I lead as he follows me home