I see the imprint of you on the white towel
above planks neatly squared off.
This would be where we last uttered our meanest words.
Nothing saved us from centuries of terrible curses and omens.
Our mothers even led us to the day
where both our chairs are completely
lonely and empty, the plants we tended
suffering the same fate.
The grey outside reflects the walls of social
injury, where nothing is quite what it appears to be.
The hedges hid our smug insurance of privacy
with bright green normality. We treasured those moments
that we now condemn. I remember your secret smile
as you turn away to stir your drink
with a small delicate finger. I clumsily clink my ice cubes
in a noisy semi-circle
interrupting our narcissistic thoughts briefly.
There are small beads of sweat on your forehead.
I believed it could go on forever.