the cat will keep me warm

forgetting the time that was with wishful thinking that you might see a little more than through the glass to what you wanted. what did you tell your mother on the phone? remind myself to remember what matters and the rivers of blood spilt into forever by our taxes and silence. we play ignorant and draw each other blind on the train. I keep both pictures in the book. you already have one on the wall.

on the last page you insist on walking me to the bus, as though there's more to say or do. we stand where we first said goodbye and thank each other for spending time. you say something about de ja vu. there's also something different in your eyes, just for a moment. I can't read what it means and it's well and truly time to go. rays through fingerprints on lens? just a smudge or a passing thought to never see the light of words.

my brother wraps his head round new chemicals. we talk when we can and wish we could more. off the tram I lie in bed and fall into my phone. play house and watch a holocaust with cashews in my mouth. the kids are getting thinner. I spy the flames and feel the cold of a new home. maybe the cat will keep me warm tonight.