Jazz likes to play in the background
As if it has a right to be there.
The clouds outside clog up the sky, and the open window lets them in,
Lets them seep into the furniture and darken the room,
I can’t actually see you anymore;
There is a thick blanket of weather between us.
And last night I dreamt of you, and me.
We were standing in the doorway of your house,
Ran pouring down, cold edging in, and we stood there.
Nothing else happened.
I woke up, was all, to clouds and jazz entering the house,
Lounging about my space like they owned it,
Having sneaked in through the window.
Who opened the window, anyway, in this weather?
You invited clouds and jazz music into my life, you did.
Now, I’ve swept all the clouds out. Some had to be kicked,
Some shoved, and some dragged, but I got them all.
And most of the jazz.
There’s just the one left, I think. It hides behind the sofa,
And only comes out when I think of you –
And even then, quietly. Quietly.