im standing on this corner
cant get their attention
facing rush hour faces turned around
i clutch my stack of paper, press one to a chest
then watch it swoop and stutter to the ground
im weary with right angles, abbreviated daylight
and waiting for a winter to be done
why do i still see you in every mirrored window
in all that i could never overcome
How I don't know what I should do with my hands when I talk to you.
How you don't know where you should look, so you look at my hands.
How movements rise and then dissolve, melted by our shallow breath.
How causes dance away from me.
I am your pamphleteer.
I walk this room in time to the beat of the Gestetner,
contemplate my next communique.
The rhetoric and treason of saying that I'll miss you.
Of saying "Hey, well maybe you should stay."
Sing "Oh what force on earth could be weaker than the feeble strength of one"
like me remembering the way it could have been.
Help me with this barricade.
No surrender. No defeat.
A spectre's haunting Albert Street.
I am your pamphleteer.

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