ask in shops if they’ve got any work.
Some shake their heads, some smirk
he’s getting tired, his feet are hot
and achy. This isn’t the way to do it.
By one o’clock, all he’s tasted
is a cup of tea and slice of toast;
there’s a lad and dog on a blanket
with a cardboard sign – Thanx!
He’s got dreadlocks
the dog’s got a red bandanna round his neck.
They look pathetic – Frankie decides there and then
he’s not going to be like them.