My glass was foggy,
And from my window, a still
Of a city pausing for breath
From a window sill.
I love days like these.
Days that linger on the skin
And your hair.
Umbrellas waltz and curtsy to one another
As their shadowy legs speed home, and away.
Neon lights bleed onto the roads
And cars splash through the colourful viscera.
The city is dead, but covered in confetti.
The train passes through every ten minutes
Bringing more to mourn,
Or perhaps some come to dance.
I rush to see it depart and return
And I imagine the train as a tormented lover:
Where should I be?
No road could ever take me there
Because they would lead me anywhere
But where I want to be.
When the city is this cold
I think of how birds flock
To brighter skies –
They say they simply just know the way.
So I toast the track
I rise from my perch,
And I fly home.
Illustration Nick Victor