Convoluted Picture

A polluting fire casts
shadow-light on the
corner by the gate,
creating a cove of
orange-brown, mixing with
the blue of seven pm.

It's almost too perfect
a place for clandestine lovers
to share each other's
silent harmony for just
one,
undisturbed
night.

Pay me no mind please,
none at all because
I know I sound ridiculous,
bordering stupid, in fact.

But really, I can't help
picturing you and I
together there.
Someday.


checked. phanta.