the world is pouring into you
a waterfall
a rush
a once in a lifetime
you drink your usual earl grey
milk, no sugar
under a pile of clouds
you feed your pigeons in squares
and think:
am I too old for this
what shall I wear tonight?
your streets are blushing with joy
like the cheeks of a woman in love
I too am in your blood,
a cocktail of sounds,
I hold a little boy’s hand
and in his eyes,
two blue wide screens,
you slowly open up your robes
and wave
I was wondering if the scarf made last year
feels warm and soft to your neck
holding above the chin I have bitten and kissed
or
if the Victorian blanket I knitted
covers well your knees
the ones I caressed when they were sore and bruised and bleeding
or
if you’re still listening to
the carol I sang in a lower key
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