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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Borrowed Hoodie Weather”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
Grey hangs like a damp theatre curtain. Your hoodie is half a tent for two. At the bus stop, puddles learn our names; steam from our talk mists the glass. Tyres hiss; a crosstown bus exhales. We rename streetlights constellations— the 47 haloed, off-licence green pooling the kerb. In this borrowed hoodie weather, the hood fits closer. If summer asks what happened, tell it we chose the small fire, and let the drizzle drum time— both hands in one pocket, drawstrings damp with breath.
Lyrics
Grey hangs low like theatre cloth Your hoodie tents two hearts Puddles spell our names Steam fogs the shelter glass Tires hiss, the bus exhales We rename streetlights stars Off licence green floods curb The hood fits closer now Say my name In the rain Seat rattles, windows hum Your cuff warms both my hands Drizzle drums soft time One pocket holds us both Drawstrings taste like breath Cross town blurs to gold We lean and count new skies I press my grin in cloth Say my name In the rain If summer asks what changed We choose a small fire Say my name In the rain Say my name In the rain
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