r is for rainbows,
spectrums that mean youmeormaybenothingatall
Yesterday was your birthday and I spotted a rainbow in the sky, tried to take a photo because I thought to myself that's my present to you but it was too small and frail to be frozen in time and anyway you wouldn't notice it, ever - we both know you're too sensible to wait out the rain and I'm too proper to dash laughing into the torrent. The other day you laughed at me for that and I said I would be crazy to get drenched voluntarily, then you shook your head and ran off leaving your umbrella behind.
We have memories that if laid end to end would stretch to the end of the rainbow, but delicious delirious daydreams are no more than fool's gold. Promises to go round the world and not come back are lost somewhere along the way, fresh as yesterday but hard to extract like taking out your shoelaces and anyway I'm worried you'll trip on the way home.
So we will not gaze at pastel stripes like they are daytime fireworks, instead our rainbow's in polluted puddles, spectrums that whisk in and out of reality and slightly sickening. They swirl around nauseatingly and the colours seem to laugh at what we have become.
I stamp in it and the water wets my jeans. There, now we're equals.