This crawling juncture of sleepy smoke and eyes prised open-
Why not go?
I’ll drag myself through a drunken sunrise and emerge
Alert and sparkling clean-
You’ll be grasping the bones of my wrist looking dazed-
And I’ll laugh:
‘Have you ever seen it this beautiful before?’
A child’s frown-
‘But it’s ugly,
It’s fucked up, it’s a wreck.’
I was in love with it, a grey that one could sink into and nobody would look for you-
Submerged in a silence and a noise, a humming forest of slick concrete-
You look up and say:
‘I do like this rain though.’
We are soaked through.