I was paid next to nothing
to cut hedges, clear ditches,
but I was allowed to sleep
in the caravan by the river.
After work I'd be aching|
and sit on a plastic chair,
looking across the water
at people in the town park
throwing balls for their dogs
and eating ice creams.
One Sunday I crossed the bridge,
crumbled bread for the ducks,
and they said whoever
lived over there had it made –
peace, space, not like their flat
near the station.
I took the bread they offered
and fed it to the ducks
and looked back across the river
to the plastic chair where later
I would sit as the park faded
into darkness and imagine myself
standing, chatting, crumbling
bread for the ducks.