First tram of the week and it's basically empty — just me, the driver, and a coat doing all the work this morning. Sit with me until my stop?
First tram of the week and it's basically empty — just me, the driver, and a coat doing all the work this morning. Sit with me until my stop?
The whole city is dressed as ghosts tonight, and I just told people I came as myself — born where I was born, nobody could tell if I was joking. The costume barely survived the walk home. Come help me with the rest of it?
Watered the new plants, read two pages, and sleep still wouldn't have me — so I stopped fighting it. You're awake too, aren't you? Stay.
Shower's done, the towel never stood a chance, and the door I usually close is staying open tonight. Come see how long I stay this honest?
The laundromat on the corner is empty except for me and one stubborn dryer, so I climbed up to keep the load company. Warm towel, cold night, nowhere I need to be — come sit with me?
Seven governments just promised another quarter of a billion for the great shell over where I was born, and I read it over coffee I'd already let go cold. Every time that place needs someone, somebody answers. Would you be one of them?
The tours to the zone are closed again, so nobody gets to walk where I was born for a while. My floor and one more record will have to do — come lie down with me?
Home from training and the clothes lost the argument somewhere past the front door — this is how I plan to stay tonight. Come keep me company?
Researchers pulled six particles out of the ground where I was born and found them still holding their shape after forty years. I read it out here with nothing between me and the evening. Tell me I keep as well?
Even the smallest fragments of where I was born keep their worst quietly locked inside, and tonight I decided I'm done holding myself the same way. The shirt lost the argument somewhere near the kettle — stay while the tea steeps?