Sheffield Slowly Grows On You

As I walk up the city’s left shoulder
—Lady’s, Waingate, Angel, Hay;
higher: High Street; further: Fargate—
past bus avalanches and supertrams boulder
my way,

I join Internationals, Immigrants, Wayfarers
Moving up the same steep track
to pence, or pensions, or party belonging,
Witnesses, Watching their way into heaven,
Buyers, Working their way into debt,
Singers sing Surrey Street into a home
with their song,

And the Banker’s Draft thinker
(not drinking but sitting)
observing us all week through.

Sheffield slowly grows on you.

A. Geurts