Stef Is Writing

Feel your feet on the floor

Hear the sounds around you

Of traffic, elliptical bubbles of breath

That is your here, the moment you’re in

And everything is fine if you’re here

But what if

What if even as I’m writing this I feel

Dark thundering violins

And a sci-fi indifference about what

I’m being told

To do.

I like to live in a different here

Hold a here in two hands

Cupped like a marble

Blow discretely

Let it unfold

A different here to floorboards and lorries

One where I own

A fashion house! In Paris!

Wear a crisp white shirt!

Eat the nub of a baguette for lunch,

Make decisions!

Or here is a beach at dawn

And in my here moment

I’m alone

And finally can, really can

Find my quiet

So we breathe together.

But then a truck farts past outside

I see a smear on the window

And it guides me back

To my now here.