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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