Be late

Strange. The beginning of this city
     is the same;
     the personality
     of your smell
     is my flat
     it grows out
     across my sheets
     back in
     and i pay
     with the few minutes i’ll need to
     when I’m late
     later
     i’m as dumb as your pashmina
     hanging over
     and i see this room
     without myself, and you sleeping
     like a female
bear
as nothing seperate

the sun likes my blinds
and your sleeping back
as i wake
easier
for work

there is no
madness like being human
it sleeps like dance

looking up, I blink
and count the scabs I see in the sky
and the shouts from annoyed cabbies
and the cuts in my chin
from shaving
smile

they leak open
and drip down
into the basin
each one pulls down the time
i’m late
but dress casually
all the same
it’s worth while
this
disorder
this
mixing
as I choose
as I fold me tie
watching you sleep
as i dress
and experience
a new laughing
a.m.

making my work day
an agile song

just,
a man
smiling at its world’s raven
wondering carefully how she sleeps

through a kitchen window
making breakfast
with
linking
steps

that were loose
as we danced home
last night

i learn to do such things
at me desk
preferring to think
of our feet
twelve hours before

yours – in those shoes i love
mine – clumsy
up the stairs
screaming about something i cannit

remember
back to
flat number seven
seven dirty machine guns
seven
taps

on enter now
sending this email
making me laugh
the peach lifts up through the city
and the power
to tell one person
that i’ll see you soon
is more
than enough gas
to find me keys

just enough
to crawl up me blocks stairs
relax on my back with you
welcoming
disorder
forgetting me boss
watching
the rest of the morning rise up
from the landscape
whilst you sleep in

i laugh under me breathe
keeping it to meself
letting the rest of the day
rise up
beginning
itself.

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