Waiting in between

The naivety of the sea
Pacific theme
the guitar notes pull at me
I sit here,
plastic bottle joking like a teleprompter,
and think of things I could say
not much at all
mobile and mugs and sheets of paper
scribbled on
a pint glass stolen from another time
when the pubs were open
the distinction appears very simple
and the music changes
I touch the laminate wood, the desk
that I set up in excitement
like the the bookshelf
one plank the wrong way round
the past pressing its sound
broken off
into this space in between
passing time.