Pictures
Water circulates somewhere in the US
Where rain isn't left to condense,
To well, like life leaves space for time.
I'm fanning my hands on a street in
London, Soho, where we never went
But an unplaceable conversation is in the tides of heat, one that spoke of Her.
I decided I needed something disposable -
A balloon-buoy swayed with an unease that carries -
Eyes that make mothers cross the road.
I bought one and he gave me two more, haggled, too hot to... fight. Paid, left with this in my hand.
On the bridge. Wish I had a weight.
It's a pain to hold but I don't want to watch my money sweep past Big Ben and the disgustingly scenic city scape.
Water circulates like these e-bikes.
Round the pre-plotted roads -
I think of the Romans, dead in the ground.
There's probably a few still in the Thames.
Death feels so historical.
We discovered clouds that hold rain forever.
I have everything in my pocket.
Within arms
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