Poetry

Green Bulb

8 August 2016

A man leans out to spit
thick raindrops stick and slide
down glass.

A man’s legs are spread too close     
to your puckered
goose skin.

A fat raindrop plops
behind your lapel, a slippery finger
beading
on your nape
wetting
paper skin,
it is cold.

A man has a too big bag
stuffed with spring onions
your sensitive eyes gloss
water leaks
from the plated aluminium roof
the room glows
a sickly fluorescent green.


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