shaped shadows on the empty plates.
I've been running late most of my life.
Even though I cross the street when I really
shouldn't cross the street.
The steam that comes up from the sewer grates looks spooky.
I peer right in close, in case my future is laying
there in the vapours.
I've only caught sight of oncoming traffic.
The snow today looks like dandruff.
Dandelions should be able to appear all year round.
It would give us all more courage.
I've noticed things, but nothing in particular.
I play air instruments in my air band.
Technically we are always on tour.
I can never get my windows as clean as I'd like them to be,
so the light is always distorted, I try to write my name in
the way it catches the speck of dust floating around me.
That same dust that gets inhaled and stuck inside me.
The dust never really settles, it just rests until a force
much larger than itself carries it upwards and onward.
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