I'm just improvising

Having these nonsense coffee- conversations
kissing boyfriends in the supermarket
counting up to my seventy-seventh headache
collecting things I can't put in boxes

Some people have a place where they drink
I have a room where I hate

I'm filling carrier- bags with air
and I empty them out in that room
but it still stinks of my breath
the morning after

Every morning is a morning after

A night where I forgot the lines
(I was never taught)
I'm thinking of eternity
like when you write Please Turn Over
on both sides of a piece of paper.


© Louise Halvardsson