<![CDATA[a pome: Who Reigns?]]>sitting outside on the steps in front of my apartment
as the rain falls down around me
much needed
long awaited
precipitation
well, not so much by me
not now, anyhow
not here, at this place, at this time
not while I am trapped outside my space of refuge
by a tiny little piece of carved out metal
which I at this moment do not have safely in my possession
pushing in towards the wall
as I try and protect this electronic paper
from being dampened
by the drip drip drip of the drop,
and that drop
that one too
the cold, feeling unfairly left out of this scribbled conversation
decides at this point to make itself heard
where by heard I mean felt
as it decides to launch is personal attack from the other end
well, my other end
where skin and concrete scream obscenities at one other
through the hardly consequential dividing wall
that is the denim material acting, badly, as a kind of mediator between the two of them
and fairly quickly it become painfully, numbfully, obvious
just who is going to be winning this little war
and, as if to demonstrate its cheek,
cold calls on gentle breeze to see if there might be some enthusiastic interest
in taking the attack directly to my face
I pull the hood of my hoodie tighter
as if to suggest I have some lame-added arsenal
from which to draw any kind of hope in this here skirmish
realising that I really don’t
and that the only way that I can assist the battle for my nether regions
is by taking a stand
literally
(Any metaphorical belligerence on my behalf has been long seen off)
and so I do
This is me
Standing outside my door
Shivering in the cold
Hoping that you will be coming home soon
To let me in
(Seriously hoping that you are not inside with your headphones on,
Oblivious to my ever coldening fate)
I curse the dead battery on my phone once more
Knowing that if only it was charged
I would be happily locked outside my apartment
In the freezing cold and rain
With a charged up phone.
Oh.
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