Deirdre McKenna. Dark Luck

About

She turns the light on at 5am.
Cleaning the balcony, as I smoke another cigarette.
I still haven’t put the batteries in the geiger counter, I don’t want to know.
The last two peaches on my neighbor’s tree dropped to the ground 4 days ago,
My balance is getting better too.
Lonesome women shop, I join them.
I talk to the lady in a tiny cigarette shop, neither understanding a word the other speaks beyond “hello and “thank you”. We talk for a long time, she writes things down, I draw a map. She points at the calendar.
The woman in the queue for the train is swaying and shivering, in readiness for the compression of bodies on the last train. 
I feel the wind as two crows chase each other past my head. 
I join the men in the smoking area of a skyscraper. We are so high up with so little air. 
I see my bent reflection in every street mirror.
My hot water bottle is a substitute for my lover. 
Cats lick their bottoms on Skype.
I wash the dishes and watch him as he try’s to find where the key goes.
He turns the light off at 1am.