follow me if you will

one a.m. in Quay St
a small black balloon
waits unaccompanied
on the footpath, taking
my heart for a minute

away from the language
of the evening
was it significant
his leaning towards me
and do I want it to be so?

no such doubt exists
for the balloon
things are working out
entirely as expected
it’s obvious

by the way it bobs
across the road
jauntily dodging cars
heading straight
for the ferry building