On Duke St.
As I left the car park
men hunkered down,
in stain-greyed sleeping bags
they bartered their pains:
I passed a young bride
outside a loud bar,
she was laughing
unaware of the rain:
I found Duke Street,
there for a book launch,
a drink in a record store,
to tip my glass to his.
On my way to the bank
the black sky collapsed,
and on my return
I gave the bride a soft kiss.