Let me explain

Tori works the dayshift
in a place just down the road.
She feeds tigers when she’s happy
and rats when she’s not.

A fly in the ointment
she sips tea at half past six.
And I’ve often wondered why she is,
the way she is.

You know her;
she’s neither here nor there, or anywhere.
But she’s somewhere;
somewhere very close.

Sharing a tin of something,
with a stranger she’s half met.
Floating on a current of air;
adrift, adrift, adrift.

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