Tuesday, 5 May 2015

4. Love is a pink car

Love is a pink car we set on fire in the desert
the top down, the black vinyl seats
licking and spitting, the boot
a theatre for dancing orange ghosts.

Before the matches, we stuffed the car
with hothouse flowers that drooped beneath
a sullen October sun.

We set the car on fire because we were curious.
So many histories we’d both shown up with,
all the cracks in our hands
stained with grease.

When the sulphur flared, I caught your eye.
You were biting a fat lip and trying
not to laugh at tomorrow.

We took each other’s hands and started
the long walk back to the city.
I could hear the sand cracking
like glass beneath our feet.

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