Downstairs is dad’s perpetual rant at the wrongs of the world –
uncleanliness and motorists, mostly.
I’m in my room in the dark, playing the old game dancing my fingers over flame
and at once in my hands I’ve got my phone which I am holding in wait for something good
even though the only way to make it truly good would be to unravel the universe
and I have put myself to sleep from trying too hard at that for too long.
& I’m on my floor or at the windowsill and from one location I can see lightening so distant that the thunder is silent, and from the other I can see that lightening brightening my walls
life is about taking a whole step waiting for it to be over and then taking another step and wanting that one done as well.
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