We’re watching leaves fall into the water.
I smile, thinking lifestyle has won over nature:
We’re wrapped and warm in scarves and each other,
Those leaves should’ve died by now.
The moon looms over Ikea. I see you
New in the blue light of all we won’t have
The cradles and kids toys, discarded for love;
The rooms where the cats of our conscience prowl.
We walk home together as the image fades,
Through the fragile beams stars and streetlights have made,
A sign says: The Fire Brigade Office has moved.
Beneath we read: Burn, fuckers –you’re screwed!
You ask if it’s wrong that you adore this.
So close, we kiss. My reply? Mmm. Mmm. No.
Yes.
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