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.