In This Foreign Space

With the aid of Google Maps, hand in hand we walk

as obscenely clueless tourists down narrow streets. I

had been before, you had not. I felt

it my duty to make it worth the hype I had prized it.

 

Admist the crowds
You keep me anchored
Like it’s only the two of us
In this foreign space.

 

The sun was particularly sociable, a bit in-your-face actually.

Like a drunken aunt at a family get-together.

Better than rain, we didn’t pack an umbrella,

but unnervingly still.

 

Even if it were snowing in August
You’d make it bright.
A tangible light box.
A sunbeam on my arm.

 

A tangible cliché, immersed in a city drowning in

romantic pressure. Perhaps it’s the solution to long-term

partnership. Move to Paris, the divorce rates will decrease.

Grow old together, tolerate what you were supposed to hate.

 

Has no one ever shown you the
sun is not in the sky, but in your heart.
Perhaps the gaps between your fingers
were made to fit between mine.

One thought on “In This Foreign Space

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