A sense of haste

helps me slide across the floorboards,
stack the dishwasher, clear benches, return

salt, pepper and oil to their rightful places.
Nostalgia has its purposes; each song

a key to an other self I fall into,
or a full stop I am falling towards.

Listening to Radio Free Europe
is like standing in a lift as it falls through the floors,

except these are years; gone, yet haunting like debts.
The dishes never relent, they seem to multiply

like these feelings twanged by regret.
Some nights it's possible to put away the cutlery

with a two note melody keeping time in my head.
Some nights it's possible to be falling through time

weightless as an astronaut, ready to begin again.