Trench coat futility

Today I put on my trench coat

I tuck my magnifying glass into it’s folds.

Fancying myself as a bloodhound, I put my nose to the air, searching for your scent, of crushed pine needles and paint.

I pad softly behind you, pretending you might like that I am there. That you have left me some clues on purpose.

I investigate sign posts, dictionaries and music stores. I look up close using my spell check and my magnifying glass.

Fancying myself as a greyhound, I run after you, feeling the wind rush past my ears, in my streamlined grace.

You still outrun me.

I realise you do not want to be found.

I take off my trench coat.


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