Love’s different faces

Love’s different faces 

We two go on a silly night adventure
in search of a cup of coffee,
through the sleeping streets
of chill spring Bristol
at three in the morning,
when only foreign cabmen, cops
and late-night revellers are awake.

We notice the gingerbread houses
and wonder who built them,
We peer over a wall to see a hidden garden,
but pay scant attention to our route
because we are talking and talking,
coming at the heart of our family
from two different decades.

And I know that it’s cold,
but we’re being kept warm by love and anger,
the beers we’ve drunk and by walking fast,
and with the hope that each turned corner
will bring us answers,
and coffee.

We find the garage shop,
and begin a stupid negotiation
that leaves us with the makings
of an instant beverage –
and then we turn to go home –
only now we’re lost and tired.

It’s nearly four and the cabs have vanished,
but I’m still so foolishly content
as we pound up this road, and down that lane,
because I see a fox dancing between parked cars –
like a shape made of smoke under the cold street lights –
the quiet night is edged with nightingale song,
but mostly because I’m walking it with you. (2009)

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