My balcony overlooks the car park at the back of a bank
Empty every day now
And a wall that has always been empty
There’s a chimney or other kind of filthy vent
There too
My herb garden is stunted because my balcony
Is precisely positioned to never receive direct sunlight
They don’t grow, don’t die
If I leapt from my fake rattan plastic Bunnings outdoor seat
I could possibly catch a glimpse of the sea
Yay
Empty stubbies are now filled with rainwater
The cigarette butts stubbornly disgustingly submerged
Remnant
And every time that thunder is promised
I am out there waiting
For change