We had plans beyond the wine we shared

            That night, I know

            You see, it wasn’t something I could 

            Bring myself to tell you at the café,

            Not with gypsy guitars and dancing,

            Not with your lithe arms around my neck

            As I pressed your waist,

            Not with the spice of your kiss

            If I had stolen back

            To stroke your cheek again

            While you slept

            If I had stepped carefully around

            The clothes you scattered on the floor

            Of the bungalow and

            Fell again beside you on our bed

            In that sultry middle darkness

            It would have been impossible for me

            To have become the man you saved

            Did you weep?

            Perhaps you smashed the window

            Looking out over the waters of my destiny

            Did you stick around for long?

            Your thread – I’ve kept it 

            Close at hand, it’s frayed and greasy,

            Knotted like a rosary from fingering:

            Of course I knew you never meant

            For it to chain

            I spared us both, my darling

            I couldn’t bear to watch you fade

            Or find you maimed under the weight

            Of ordinary days

            What a surprise after all this time

            To run into you –

            Such casual strength and wit

            How might we spring to grandeur

            Now that we deserve ourselves