I invent a back story as you dry your hair: the full-tongue snog that took four takes, your swollen lips and Linda from costume said that we should “try acting.”
The thing is: the sliver of shadow between the drainpipe and the stone cladding always contains a gent with some news. He waits for you to pull the map out. He overhears you repeating the password.
This poem is a univocalism, which means it only uses one vowel throughout. In this case 'i'. This is one of the forms employed by those wacky chaps at Oulipo, ouvrir de literature potentiale.