we're on the water.
The bus that surrounds us skims along the surface.
There's only this grey-blue ground that goes forever,
and the grey-white everything else that swallows up the sky.
A wave reaches for the sailing fog,
that navigates its way towards me,
with its lacy fingertips
We move onward,
it drifts over us,
and opens to the city
where the crumbly asphalt
is as natural as the dirt on the forest ground.
The old red brick, green street signs and blue
come together in a haze,
I wander through the streets, yet
the city stands before my eyes
as though through and old photograph.