by dylan wilco
Tucked into bed for rest,
weren’t you?
I felt the grass tucked around my jandals
under my raynauds blue feet
& the bonfire left the night
with a kiss on my hoodie sleeve
& I picked up bottle caps
& draught cans
& butts of chesterfield reds
& wrappers and other things
& I tossed them all in a heap
& I thought about making them all a blanket
& I turned to the windowsill
& your eyes were pools of t.v.
a netflix original with cillian murphy
& that other irish lady
you weren’t asleep
dylan wilco has 800 new zealand dollars to his name over new zealand summer @4evadlphinluv