by Ingrid Leonard
I gid in me own time’s voar among
a guid skrythe, aipsan atween doors
fae wan student flat tae anither. I’d shower
wi thowts o voices that teemed thi air,
kennan we’d soon be mullan ower
music or Voltaire, guys who widna luk
at wir eyes when they spokk, steam risan
fae hot cups. Is their a better wak than
thi wan ye mak tae see yer freends?
Nights in May wi family steyan, pizza
for tea an home by nine. Whar turns in
when thi dark’s a blip an thi day begs
daean at a lick, I hear a hunder thoosand
yamils sayan hii! Mak use o yer legs.