Mind, you and I, we work a lot together.
We can enter you, and observe.
We can go into a quiet little square,
on a sunny lunchtime in any provincial town.
People sit under parasols, by the café, and chat.
The girl with a tendril of tattoo round her arm
walks laughing with her friend to join them.
A woman sits on the steps and eats sandwiches
with her daughter, and granddaughter.
The guy who cleans the shopping mall is on his mobile.
The girl in the pink jacket at the back of the Chinese
flirts with the young man on his break.
He lies back in a shopping trolley, smoking.
You and I, we work a lot together.
We can enter the square, and be there.
We can eat our falafel pitta slowly, and leave.
We can mind out, and mind in.
The space is always there, available.