CLOUD
FACE
For weeks the sky has been
overcast.
We sit silently as we drive
in your car.
The wheels create a fountain-spray of the
puddles when we whizz past.
The traffic lights change;
you stop.
I find that even silence is
not completely peaceful but a portent of the storm.
I don't know what this is,
I can't tell you that this is
love and we should hold on.
Streams of rain blur the
lights of the cars ahead of us.
The windscreen looks like an
impressionist painting.
The air conditioning is
turned on.
Our breath fogs up the window
panes,
We are too old to do silly
things like scribble hearts and our names on the foggy slate with cold fingers.
Why are we breaking up again?
Remind me.
You will forget me.
I am nothing but a point,
Fixed in time. And space.
You wander.
I can't afford to move.
Because I fear if I do...
You'll return to see a blank
where a point used to be.
The policeman waves us
through; you drive off coldly.
Listen to the pitter-patter
on the metal roof, darling.
Cloud Face, it's okay to roll
the windows down and wet the car seats.
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