petrol and ground earth
summer drifting through my city
stale conversations in taxi cabs
need to find myself a way out of here.

boarding passes and large sunglasses
a few farewells to a few good friends
the weight of the world hanging over us.

conversations about the weather
speed boats and fishing trips
floral t-shirts on aging men
need to find myself a way out of here.

he asked me if I grew up there
in that little capital city.

no.