In the foyer
of the uber hotel
at the heart of a City,
I listen.
So many words.
They get caught in the branches
of the giant magnolia tree
at the centre of the room.
As chattering birds they rise, sudden,
like starlings gliding on the thermals of an autumn sky,
up and around the atrium the words fly by.
Am I in, or am I out?
Am I a part of this world, or the next?
Which way? Which way?
I ask myself as I roll a warm macadamia nut
over the roof of my mouth.
Glass of wine at hand.
I am held in the bubble of a big conversation.
Watching a handshake at the bar.
A head thrown back in abandoned disbelief.
In it.
And out of it.
I sit alone.
I watch.
And wait.