Fog
Covid and forced farniente
While the fog washes over the waves of our streets Catching light in its mantel, yet never entrapping we meet The rays slow, muffled such that their depth be palpable Straight through wooly eyes and swollen parasols And the photons puff in mid air, face to face and time to time The stars no more reach us, only the groceries’ neon’s grime
And I unwind as the dragging void dressed In the textures of a long joyous breath Floats above the tracks’ Frozen necks hums an ablaze tune from the 20th Imbues its bloom where have broken my bricks
Rise on, there is no more horizon But a deadline eschewed in mist I can see clearly now, how we’re woven And I unwind as the dragging void dressed In the textures of a long joyous breath Floats above