Alistair

Alistair, I don't know how to spell your name, Alisdair.
Alistair, you're lying shirtless on a fold-out couch and I only just meet you a moment ago -
Sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea. It had cinnamon and peppermint as its flavours.
And I reckon, it was your talk of taking down the wall,
between the kitchen, and the living room, that got me really thinking.
I kept smiling in your direction, because that's the way I tread ground with new persons -
Softly-softly, with men particularly.
You're my friends new house-mate. Sydney once knew your name, but now Melbourne - 
A year since moving. Construction the object of your study.
I try to approach new ways of asking of you, trying to avoid the same old questions.
You're tired, you're hungover, we talk about cities and solar power.