we are wrapped in coats after some gig.
north London.
ages ago.
she is short.
unphotographable.
the truth I tell her is
I DON’T THINK I HAVE EVER BEEN HAPPY.
she snorts.
looks away.
is amused.
instantly i am too tall
and ridiculous.
no more was said about it
and in her flat of parties
in her tidy clutter bedroom
she makes tampons disappear while I blink.
playing
she puts on an electric pink wig.
I am serious foolish speechless.
she’s
burning
into
my retina.
I am sleeping on the spare room floor
getting up at 5am
to
ride
strange buses
and walk
new streets..
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