Wednesday 18th April


In a car, in a car park, in the rain, waiting for you to come back
covered in mud. Trying to write, the pen hangs over the paper.
I see you, feel you close in the sentences you wrote, delivered by hand
on crumpled sheets. A blank mind panics, runs in circles, slows down,
stops & smiles. Turn on the radio, close your eyes & listen. The words you seek
are behind the sound of the rain.