It's over (2006)

and
I say nothing

(smoking gun)

or at least nothing from
the list (of things
never to be said again),

all our trusty
workarounds (e.g.):

“Leave me
alone to smoke
my cigarette!”

It’s ok,
we don’t have to be sexy
(any more).

Friends, correct?

Page 198 of 198:
I was (I am!) chasing down Smith St –

you
(had) a hand in this,

I thought,

so do I (in this),

this payment,

Badge of Honour,

well-thumbed anthology of
ways (to get fixed).

It’s over and I’m
mixing up tenses (still);

I chose (I’ve chosen)
the colour blue to
remember you

(storing liquid maps) .

You told me (too),
“Never turn your back
on the ocean”,

but (what if)
the ocean is you...?