The grass is wet but it is only my deep feet that make me aware of my hands with no pockets. The grass made way for footprints running, towards a lady who was dog walking, looking. My first glancing chance makes no pass for two hands, as her dog takes quantum physics to wander if it knows me. After all I am to a dog, a man, looking down at the mouth for a comment. I remind the dog that I know she is a nice lady, looking up , I value my freedom. I thought about the tides reach and the neurones breaking the current. My river is lying down at tea time, thinking of the sea side. I saw her occupation in the creases of my stomach , I cannot force the smile it foils me , catching a few fish that are padlocked in a tower on the river bed. Is her lunch cold , in her spiderman lunchbox, her flask taller than her shiftwork? Where is he now? my dad is a widower , he found a quiet bush that was already damp. She was friendly, she knew where the dogs were , I never know what a dog is looking for.