Just me, lost in thought

I feel like it has been raining for years.

And I will wake up tomorrow, webbed and gilled, a green-skinned lily-pad.

My eyes slick sliver, like salmon skin.

I sit here, watching the skies melt, with a kitten wrapped around herself. She is unaware of this other wet world; this place without food, without fires; warm beds, and sleepy heads.

Myself, well, I am drawn to the grey.

The strange semi-stillness of a night drawing near.

Mischief realized.

Heartbreak thwarted.

Coming home with a grocery bag filled with potential.


Or adventure?

Mugs of piping chai, thick woolen blankets, and the tap, tapping of a lost-lover’s knock on my window panes.

The SOS of ten thousand teardrops.

And I see the lights across the river, blinking.

Like an old man, lost in thought.