Persiana Mericana
Precariously carrying a cup of tea with milk,
and a saucer, over sharp papers laid
on a particle board desk. An open window, where the
spring-night almost-summer breeze flows like river-water;
sugar bite, chocolate gift, round gone.
Gradient teal-to-navy sky, parrots chirruping bird-calls and
the great silver river, somewhere; graphite
black night neighbouring buildings, distant
windows are golden. Somewhere: cheap red sofas,
TV remotes, plastic covers.
Dialogues and wrinkled hands. Maybe soup.
By Psycheoma