different eyes
We walk past a railing
criss-crossed with gold
and I think:
this is a good place
to kiss—
so cradled and
so self-contained.
There's a palimpsest of a wall
making for a fine backdrop
and a cicada tree
hanging over it all
with a good-humoured hum.
Lights, no camera,
a little bit of action,
and we could make
a scene! But
you've walked ahead,
turned the corner,
gone to find a place for lunch.