Pedal Pusher Rush Hour & the Night’s Hush-Hush Halo

Heading home at 5:30 / rush hour hems the town centre into an awkward pedal pusher, crunching up my tram-taut beeline / The symmetry of work days always makes me feel like I’m folding them back / Back into my poppy filled pillowcase / Over head / patches of peacock belly-blue are soft and loud, / hollering liquid dreams & memories / Something about how night props up the streetlights, shop signs & Xmas decorations always cheers me up / like hands conspicuously cupping a secret into someone’s ear / we’re all in on this.