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.