Gotcha
Tuesday roll out of bed and run Haul jackets on And fucking run Hit the side of the bus Climb in Face plant the isle Head butt the window Hurdle unconscious enamelled Speed up bus train turnstile get there Plow keyboards madly Little plastic letters Shit it to production Slam it The clock says run Fucking better A blur beside me shouts HEY A mess of blond hair shouts HEY Lips and legs she grabs me HEY I LIKE YOU Painful yank and the weight of her drags I drag her behind HEY SLOW DOWN I jab at my watch HEY LOOK I toss my head and look daggers
Her hand is outstretched Thumb and index finger, touching Between them, a red seed I stare at it
I stand with rasping breath
Her hand is outstretched Thumb and index finger, touching Between them, a red seed I stare
She grins at me