• Car tyres hissed in the distance:
    a whisper blunted by the time and miles
    between us
    as my thighs, screaming in the crisp, cold air
    tearing through my jeans,
    gave a rustling beat
    to the motorised melody
    that chased the street-light lit horizon.

    I was in a ghost town
    where everyone had been scared under their sheets
    by the youngest hours of the day
    when rain began to land on the dead, dry dirt
    with a soft sigh:
    muttering pit-pat apologies
    and refusing to part with final farewells
    as it drowned the ground
    in the hope of one more spring.