Tall cans on
outlying streets.
A wet gutter,
a lit bus.
The dark between
streetlamps.
A hat trick of
3am weeknights.

Over wrought fence,
hide in the shadow
of a tall tree.
Ducking from cops,
from parkies,
from cops.
Kisses in spider spun bandages.

Open up and
let the rain
water run over
your open shirt,
your open skin.
Timid hearts
bared to the wind.
It's a matter of trust.
It is a matter of trust.

Shrieking for justice
from this night's sky.
Each star, glowing streak and
celestial blackness,
yet my hand here in yours.
What terrible thrills!

A stray olive branch
or more visions.
To return
to the party
like doves.