It was New Year's eve, I was
wearing blue, the city glimmered like
a giant firefly in the papery summer air.
But it was the middle of winter. It was
too bright, we couldn't see at first, so
we left the city behind and ran
away for a while.
If there is a heaven, it is a shadow.
It is pitch-black, with the closeness of
a lover's body, the warmth of his skin, the
taste of a fever-mouth, lemongrass, margarita,
and the rain.
It was raining in mid-winter, and the road
looked like a river to him. Our fingers touched
and entwined. It was a possibility,
it was my favourite love story, the beginning
of a new end.