Lucky Ones
We hashed out
life over
quarter-beers in the Hamburg bars,
over the foosball din and
the tap of shoe soles on pavement.
We knew how all
things would go,
from the patterns of planets to
the flutter of sparrow winds,
how all of it was one circle,
Ourselves at
the centre;
Two wet-soaking
amateurs,
their backs bruised from
pressing against invisible walls
So tight for
warmth we
never flew, beyond the hazed
windows, weeping for the fires
That burned
across the alley corner.
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