a park bench
a gazebo in the middle of a circle of a keyhole
like a teapot centrefold
three dance inside of it- bright hair
and nowhere else to go
passing around a single thin cigarette
my ankles have goosebumps

a streetlamp that creates the illusion
that the night isn't setting in
and yet beyond the gazebo the sky looks
like it would smell like lavender
and "seaside"
the buildings and buses all let of orange yellow glows
i'm getting too cold
the wind really gets up under my coat
this time