We shelter under a
as your thick yellow sweater sucks
up the rain, and my black suit clings
to my body. I tell you about my day
at work, and how I think I broke the
copy machine. You say you think we
missed the bus, and suggest we go
and sit in the café across the street.
Stowaway drops of
from our clothes and pool under the
table. Your eyes grow wide and your
hands tighten around your coffee cup
as you excitedly tell me stories of your
backpacking trip to
Paris, and the strange
people you met there. I sit and listen, captivated.
The bus pulls up
outside the window.
We chase each other back outside into the rain,
leaving half-full cups of coffee on the table. You push
me to the back of the bus where we sit between grey men
in black suits,
and then you tell me more about what it's like,
to escape from here.
By Gavin W.