two beers in and
i’m already missing
our old escapism.
so white, isn’t it -
string bikini lines and
forcing strangers to fall in love
with us.
there we were
speeding down the coastal line from lisbon
thinking,
i could die any minute now,
yet here i am.

saturday night
alone and
i’m back there missing
drinking cava in my underwear
with you,
that bone friend
you dream of having
all your life.
smoking hash on a balcony somewhere
over a shimmery canal,
neighbours jealous
of our architecture
which was nothing really just
open windows
and bare feet
let in through the front door.

eighteen months since
i saw you last and it
sets in
heavy.
mostly when the sun hits my life
in a certain way and that
ephemeral fire
flies through.
that’s what it is though right -
that’s what
togetherness
is.
that shaft of light. despite
everything else.
there it goes again
that impossible rainbow
dripping in your hands.