We took the safe way,
Hedging bets at stop lights,
Heckling at the very, very pregnant
Pre-pubescent silence
With shaky steps down the frozen food isle,
Angles calculated, proximity an issue,
Even then I could feel the temperature drop near your shoulders
Shrugging off slices of slices of passive agressive cuisine
I saw it flare up when I asked to use baby basil;
My darling Bartleby, of course you would prefer not.
So, stuffing feta, we signal a retreat to starchy shell,
Ignoring the flare of your nostrils,
Flooding instead tear ducts with bad jokes,
Clouding your judgement enough to pilfer a glance:
I haven't heard your smile in decades.
Haven't on the walk, haven't in the park, haven't at dusk, haven't in the nicotine rush
Nor within this flood of your bone prints,
Stored safe-a-way in my skin.
London multi-instrumentalist pairs sturdy drum machine samples with heady shoegaze guitars, resulting in deftly constructed dreamscapes. Bandcamp New & Notable Aug 10, 2022