for a moment

I buy a lightbulb from a store I’ve passed for years but never entered. the light in my ceiling stopped working half a year ago and I quickly adapted to the lamp on my desk in the corner by the window. I have to shift the table to the centre of the room for standing to be tall enough to swap the bulbs. clouds of dust roll gently cross the boards with the motion of the breeze and moving furniture. I test the switch and it’s sorted with a night to spare before becoming someone else’s problem. the room is their’s tomorrow and I’ll never haunt these walls again. the paint is charged with memories and dreams before my time: my joys and woes are little more than fading etchings in the story of an empty bedroom between tenants who will never know the space that was before. whatever mattered to me never happened to them. isn’t that a little wonderful?

smile on the street at a stranger who smiles back a costar I used to know. take the train to the train to the bus to the beach and the water’s still warm enough to swim. sun stretches cross the sky over your face and for a moment you’re the only thought I have. a secret lost and now remembered like a smile I want to keep. make me laugh again. I don’t know where you came from but I’m very glad you did.