The world is upside down

in my wine glass

reflected with clarity

but bowed by curve of glass

the curve of the world

the curve of the sea

the curve of your body

when you turn to

speak to me in the shower,

drops glancing off you

as I sketch the first

drawing of the day.

You are my constant

as I blow from

mood to mood,

my thoughts swinging too hard.

I can only admire

those who travel with easy comfort

in these streets turned upside down.

 

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