"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

i want to do that too

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

Rain, starting

in a post. I want to be remembered

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life