On brightness boulevard the sun leaves town
precisely in alignment with
the white line on the road.
The cats have lurked
all day
beneath Ms Wendy's battered 2CV.
We drank through all the afternoon,
and we saw everything;
ignored it all.
We laughed,
our understanding small, our care careless.
The Sun swung shadows underneath
the porch and Edward swore
and fanned his face.
Darkness
is on us now and Mrs Richardson,
the old man, Wendy and her son
point telescopes at lamps
so far away:
Wendy
believes they may not now exist. I'm tired.
I watch the old man load the car.
They all pile in. The engine
shrugs with Gallic
aplomb,
then fires -- an air-cooled warp engine. I run
out onto Brightness boulevard
as everyone I know,
except for Ed,
leaves town.
