Under the weight of the ground

This city has some shadows here

Those are calling your name.

I doubt if they’re calling it right

Because you’re shit unaware.

Far away, at the beach side

You’re foot writing the same;

While mixing tonic and gin

Without having to hide

As the clouds roll and make a thunder sound,

not even an inch of me gets surprised

that the sky is still the sky without you;

only curiosity kicks in about how is one

supposed to reach people

when all the telephone wires

are buried under the ground