They had only just left the shop

            In the alley, its bewildering banalities,

            When a heedless cyclist nearly struck –

            Too much trafficking, too much noise

            At the outskirts it was quieter,

            Cheap taverns, hanging laundry,

            Just the right amount of menace

            To deter a wanderer

            And there they paused,

            The grey sky hanging,

            The uncomfortable city 

            Daring their return

            A little longer

            Her bright poise,

            The lips and breasts and errant hair

            That claimed such dazzling forgeries

            From his hand

            For the thousandth time he asked her

            What she wanted from his life

            Her beauty hurt:

            She chose to break the news

            Before it had a chance to fade