Hopeless Romantic

Somewhere, in darkened alleyways,
Scattered, discarded cardboard boxes
Lie sprawled in stinking pools.
Steam geysers issue forth
From stainless steel veins.
Stagnant cries lie heavy, heaving
Against the unstable silence.
Garbled cop-cars are forgotten – here –
In this “Romantic’s Paradise,” as you call it.
Dealt face-up like jokers in a pack
Left lie, like unwanted refuse
In the dirty salle.

‘Go! Go! Go forth and taste life!’ you say,
‘See it! Feel it! Hold it tight!
And when it’s gone, drained and cold,
See it! Feel it! Hold it tighter still!
Until tight and white and chill
Your hands can hold no more!’

Dawn comes yet again,
Dull prisms, matt, strewn along the floor.
You sleep the sleep of dreamers,
Of what may, but, will never be.

It comes again, teasing closer,
Shy – at first – but only the beginning
Of what is to come.
Tantalising, it draws near,
Heady, potent, seductive,
Conductive to life
It captures, it enraptures you –
Then leaves.
Darkness descends.

Again we see that dark alley,
The burnt-out street lamps flickering,
Illuminating putrid odours, haphazard bodies
Lost in the night, unseen, unheard.
The lost children of the night
Stay lost and all alone.
Debris of years, relinquished tokens
Of remembrance and wishes
Made upon neon stars.

We meet again, you –
In the ecstasy of your midnight fantasy,
Oblivious to the world, its peoples and yourself.
You say to me:
‘When fools wish, romantics dream.’
And then you tell me that you’ve found God –

At the bottom of a bottle.