A restless wind inside a letterbox.
I sat and waited.
The bird drank from the puddle. It ducked its beak under a browned floating leaf and snapped its little head back, its thirst temporarily satisfied. Thrice.
Everything was blasted with the brightest sunlight you could imagine.
The bus came.
Got on.
I pressed 'play'.
Alanis said: "Mary Jane, don't censor your tears."
An ageing man with a strangely shaped flat-topped head. Salt and pepper hair.
I wondered where he was going.
I looked out the window stained with smears of hair gel.
I thought.
A phone call.
I can't treat her nicely like I should.
Past the all-too-familiar place.
Coldplay sang about singing a song called Yellow.
Past the market I knew so well for four years. The coffee shop we went to for our lunch break every Monday. Where they sold the noodles you all were obsessed with. The very same noodles where she found a cockroach in.
Everyone has their own lives now.
Hair gel on the window.
Past the vacuum that sucked up four years of my life.
Damien Rice explained: "It's not that we're scared, it's just that it's delicate."
Past Clementi.
The Beatles observed: "Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letterbox."
Did I misread you?
Radiohead pleaded: "Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry..."
A black Mercedes SLK.
Past Holland Village.
Mornings spent under the sun.
Where we used to have lunch together, even if it was only for an hour.
The reunions that are getting shorter and less frequent.
They'll be there forever.
Mxpx reassured: "I'll be there in your dreams and in this song."
A boy, no more than seven, rambling on to his mother sitting beside him. She nodded, barely listening, staring into space.
Hair gel on the window.
Past Dempsey.
Beer and mosquito bites.
Beer and vodka shots with them last Christmas.
I'll miss them so much next year.
South urged me to "Paint the silence".
Being a struggling, reluctant wallflower.
Orchard Road.
Got off.
He crooned: "That's all... That's all."
The bird drank from the puddle. It ducked its beak under a browned floating leaf and snapped its little head back, its thirst temporarily satisfied. Thrice.
Everything was blasted with the brightest sunlight you could imagine.
The bus came.
Got on.
I pressed 'play'.
Alanis said: "Mary Jane, don't censor your tears."
An ageing man with a strangely shaped flat-topped head. Salt and pepper hair.
I wondered where he was going.
I looked out the window stained with smears of hair gel.
I thought.
A phone call.
I can't treat her nicely like I should.
Past the all-too-familiar place.
Coldplay sang about singing a song called Yellow.
Past the market I knew so well for four years. The coffee shop we went to for our lunch break every Monday. Where they sold the noodles you all were obsessed with. The very same noodles where she found a cockroach in.
Everyone has their own lives now.
Hair gel on the window.
Past the vacuum that sucked up four years of my life.
Damien Rice explained: "It's not that we're scared, it's just that it's delicate."
Past Clementi.
The Beatles observed: "Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letterbox."
Did I misread you?
Radiohead pleaded: "Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry..."
A black Mercedes SLK.
Past Holland Village.
Mornings spent under the sun.
Where we used to have lunch together, even if it was only for an hour.
The reunions that are getting shorter and less frequent.
They'll be there forever.
Mxpx reassured: "I'll be there in your dreams and in this song."
A boy, no more than seven, rambling on to his mother sitting beside him. She nodded, barely listening, staring into space.
Hair gel on the window.
Past Dempsey.
Beer and mosquito bites.
Beer and vodka shots with them last Christmas.
I'll miss them so much next year.
South urged me to "Paint the silence".
Being a struggling, reluctant wallflower.
Orchard Road.
Got off.
He crooned: "That's all... That's all."
