[In This Cynical Time]

You’re almost at the end of your speech now
explaining to me how the world really works.
I’ve been trying hard to focus. But then
a young couple stops in front of us. When they kiss
even the giddy leaves shake with happiness.
Now you begin to speak once more
stabbing your forefinger at the air.

Yes, but no
I’m with the lovers now
having followed them down to the bridge.
Your eyebrows twist like a bowline knot,
the one sailors use when the ocean swells
and small boats tug at the docks. Hiding myself in shadow
I’m watching the sweethearts kiss again. And again
my breath quickens
when the lovers hang a lock on the grillwork,
and it’s my own heart that is humming
like the wings of a small bird suspended in mid-air
as they throw the key, high and wide,
into the deepest part of the river Seine.