After the play we talk while
we wait for the C with our shoes
touching on the platform. Say,
when the magician unrolled
the sea, an old tunnel in us
burst open. Lights off, all
air – with you I believe
in water wrung from paper.
They didn’t need to use names
to make us understand the whole
premise is being alone at the
end. Can I say, I like when
the train gets stuck. For a click,
time stops dying in us. And
at the end, we only want to
go again. Against the current:
delay my breath.
