THE SKY BECOMES more assertive and does not care for my clothes.
I stare at the driver until he stops cold, assertive.
She tells me a story of brothers and hospitals, it’s about success and inquiry.
I remembered the way you told stories, and how the table gleamed in its age.
In this new age the sea seems to be grey, perhaps because of its degrees.
Neither path has found me, on the level.
The grass is crunchy, the sand sings again, the waves wave without greeting.
I look around for something to eat, but the buns look too assertive, and the cream is no longer cold.
The book is full of tell-tale stains, marks of love and inquiry.
‘What if you woke up one morning …’
I don’t know what I was doing in your street in ‘94 but I was lost again.
All winter the southern ocean has been waiting and nothing is lost.
I may never get good at this but I crunch along paths, fed on inquiry.