at a window
I stand at a window.
I see words coming.
Some words I recognise:
although, red, previously,
nevertheless in its flapping jacket,
truthfulness, imperfect...
Some clamber onto each other’s shoulders.
‘Who are you?’ they shout.
‘Overcast,’ I shout.
‘Heavily or fairly?’ they ask.
‘Slightly,’ I say. ‘Slightly overcast.’
I lower my eyes.
I wish I was glittering
or somewhat
or even more: notwithstanding.
It starts to rain.
Although looks up, her cheeks grow wet.
Far and wide run away.
Darkness falls.
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