As the day passes before you, you sit longer than you had planned
on the most servant park bench.
Then, subtly, a lost shadow whispers into your ear, It says, shame about the
cats and dogs. You haven’t the heart to tell it that it hasn’t rained for days.
Meanwhile, time must be folding inward; squeezing itself until a residue from
a meaningful downpour leaps from your chin.
You remain seated on the bench getting wet, and as you do, you’re
unknowingly and repeatedly shapeshifting; into every person who has ever sat
there for exactly the same reason you do.
Wonderful images. I wish I could watch the shapeshifting…
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Thanks Sonya, yes i agree that watching the shapeshifting would be fascinating, many characters over many decades with many thoughts. Thanks for reading, much appreciated.
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