you are water
anything but still
translucent and futile
and how I want to drown
you are the flock of pigeons dancing over tram wires under overcast Fridays
effervescent
forging scenes I’d only dream in echoes of the silver screen
I am a child in the pram
who hears the roar but cannot see the traffic
facing the sky
watching you shift shapes like clouds
cheering in my head
without the words to tell you how it makes me feel
laughing til it rains and you are gone
you’re making jokes for strangers from the oceans to the gospels
I know about the Bible
tell me more about your dreams.
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