There’s a space on the page….
Between us a sea
An ocean of figures
Of meanings and photos
To lap at our shore…
Rhythm and Motion
At the busy, boring pattern of the velour seat.
So many shades of brown
And not one of them a match
For the colour of your skin…
The airwaves crackle with restless energy
The static of hungry expectation
The length of never stretches on and on
For the elastic to snap
Knowing better, doing it anyway
I am foolish, I’ve come out without my coat.
I am foolish, I’ve come out without my clothes
Alone in this place
I’m a small piece of driftwood
I wait on the tideline
and miss you like fuck.