Sunday, 18 November 2012

Es war einmal
















party dress in the mist


trees jet black white under fading street lighting


kiss your soft damp hair. my first ‘girlfriend’ (“I hate that word”)


early morning cars stumble gears





the fifth creature, from its observation platform, reports a species of seafaring bee. They navigate the billows, bzzzzzzzing for foghorns





you have taken off your party dress


you hang it on a clotheshorse to dry


warm in bed


day develops, sun comes out, time begins






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