before the rains, 14

there was drizzling and the grass got wet, but it wasn’t the rains really, just some. my neighbour’s wife sends more water down washing her balcony.

so we sit there like that and get wet.

now the man, he’s got a clean look about him, everything in place, hair, shirt, shoelace, buttons, cufflinks – i mean for someone lives alone and talks to me only – cufflinks,

weird.

and with his neat fingers, he draws his map in the mud complete with landmarks. it’s got leaves, sticks, stones, pebbles and what-not he’s picked up from the park. nuts

we huddle over it and he looks deadly serious and points at two odd shaped pebbles in the map, these,

cloud, these
are our apartment blocks, you start here
and ride north down
the park the f block market left
from the main gate, and down here
the bus-stop. here call-centre girls are growing frisky because it's evening
and it's time.

they think you're a movie star with the wind behind you. but you're just my cloud,
on my map,
no?