On the cold dirty asphalt. The vast black expanse behind my flat where we park our cars. Beside the putrid trash bins. With chalk. I'm making an outline of your body. Your head. This heart. Those hands. Cover each curve a thousand times. Until the stick breaks into fine crumbly powder. Press so hard my fingers bleed. My eyes burn. Until the ground swells into dust. Covers us both. Like the aftermath of fireworks at night.