two substances collide
The sun is streaming through my skylight and making a waterfall patterns on my wall. It's too hot in here at night.
There are strings on my playlist and nice, smooth voices. I want to go home and sit in the garden and hear the awkward clang of saucepans through the kitchen window.
On paper this year's a success. I got a first and I'm heading to the RCA. I can't help thinking I want to be going someplace else, and not on a train with a nervous ticket man. On a boat, and we're sailing it ourselves and we catch big fish with comic ease, and I'll run my fingers through the water while you row, and when it's my turn you'll eat apples and toss the cores to the fish. Do you see what I mean?