watching tv and watering plants,
writing stories,
washing windows.
it seemed silly to spend a gray day at the beach.
we did it anyway.
kites,
coloured,
blown up balls.
sand between my teeth:
gritty, and wet.
the forecast called for rain.
it never rained.
just the heavy promise,
clouds, thick, threatening,
never following through.
home, or
somewhere.
a bed under a roof.
does it matter where,
even if it feels a little
empty
the absence of rain on the roof:
silence.
++
remember when,
in the lamplight,
our skin touched.
in my room,
nothing illuminated
but your back...
and i keep thinking
if you were here
i'd pull you into me.
and sometimes i just hate
my computer lying next to me.
it is very hard to find a job
if you never leave your house.
my hair is really soft,
does anyone care about that.
when is someone going to pay me
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