Growing

Mine is the world of cleaning ladies.

Of nightwatchmen nodding off slowly to sleep,

The odd employee sitting at his desk at midnight.

It is the empty night, and the steely day.

It is water, whipped into a frenzy by wind.

It is sitting under a gray bridge, waiting for the rain to stop.

It is deep breathing, the moment before sleep.

It is waking up groggy,

Staring out of a window –

You name it.

It is mine.

A man walks by at a slow pace.

A woman checks her phone for new messages.

A dog barks at a cat and slurps the food in her bowl.

An empty bag flies over a skyscraper, the sea, my head.

An opening in the wall, a window, a crack –

These are the things I enjoy.

When there’s too much noise, you can’t hear yourself clearly.

I am the wet that peels your legs.

I am the moisture on the roof of a train station.

I am a cat.

I am a rabbit, and a bat.

I am the city lights, and the darks.

I am everywhere, I am everything.

I am a raindrop, and an ocean, and I’m growing.

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