Haunts Poem by david e golledge

Standing beside you at
close quarters, breathing
in your breath, your perfumes,
your aromatic effluences,
skin molecules invisible,
and parts of you
become parts of me.

Stepping out into the
street, breathing in the
metropolitan air that throbs
with the essence of it’s
peoples, the pollutions
of the multitude, the fantasies
of buildings, the transport networks.

Breathing out my scents,
my flavours and part of me
becomes part of the city.
The haunting and the haunted,
a child sleeping in a municipal park,
a semi-detached dreaming
of the highest tower block,
an athlete sweating mists,
a ring road reaching for the motorway.