Wednesday 3rd February



Keep it under the table, the jungle outside. The stripes, the food
arrives. Roasted garlic, abandoned plate, everything on hold.
She smiles in mother tongue, everything coming through headphones,
lips caressed with linen.
Hair grows from the face at the end of a long day, the mouth tells
stories above the table as the foot goes wild beneath the chair.


3 thoughts on “Wednesday 3rd February

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