eavesdripdrop

steam still rising from the pan (from our feet, from his hair, from the warm compost in the frosty air).

always a series of hallways, like the ones in all my dreams, every glimpsed or eavesdropped moment framed in layers of doorways and corners and long, searching glances from one room to the next (and another).

poker-faced jokes and rererepeated names. coconuts and apples and melons gleaned from a dumpster in the snow, slush in the streets and car wheels sliding through the mist. when the music fades out between songs and i hear a slice of you, singing in the other room, eyes closed, head down, fingers hesitantly strumming.