Pressed my soles against your rosy bricks;
felt my bones familiar with your kitsch.
I loved it anyway: the houses
lined up like ducklings in bowties peach-and-
lemon, dumb to the pretense of their ton.
And while this ingrate-grey estate went on
with his tired litany, my eyes drifted,
somewhere searching past the weight of the wind --
what more deceits do I fit into my
pockets and bring home? I cupped a palmful
of air and sealed it inside a coat pocket;
one hand freed to take snaps of a daydream.
These hands will warm soon enough and these bones
will stop aching, these eyes will stop searching.
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 4:10 AM UTC
Pressed my soles against your rosy bricks;
felt my bones familiar with your kitsch.
I loved it anyway: the houses
lined up like ducklings in bowties peach-and-
lemon, dumb to the pretense of their ton.
And while this ingrate-grey estate went on
with his tired litany, my eyes drifted,
somewhere searching past the weight of the wind --
what more deceits do I fit into my
pockets and bring home? I cupped a palmful
of air and sealed it inside a coat pocket;
one hand freed to take snaps of a daydream.
These hands will warm soon enough and these bones
will stop aching, these eyes will stop searching.