Thursday 17 January 2008

Siamese


I saw them ahead of me
through the gloom and a little distant.
They seemed joined at the hip
and walked as one beneath a small black umbrella.


For some reason the sight of them heartened me.
I tried to remember if I'd ever
walked that way before;
arm round her back, close,
passionate, at eight thirty
in the morning, in the
pouring rain.
Or any time.


It looked to be a cumbersome arrangement
as they made their way along the narrow pavement,
yet preferable somehow
to flying solo.


Closer now and I can hear;
"Gie us the umbrella, gonnae!"
A nasal caw that could scour steel.
"Ah bought that umbrella fur masel, You use yir hood!"
They stop to bicker, hemming me in.
A silent oath is offered for
their self absorbed display
and I work my way to the subway,
reminded and chastened.


To preserve the illusion, one must
Never get too close.

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