Wednesday 4 July 2018

The only thing


Your voices bounce softly off each other's insights

like music twirling on its own notes

as we lie on the sofas outside.

Our dog rests on a blind side
but we hear its breath
—automatic like the sun,
like a smile.

the dishes could need doing.
Somewhere in the city,
reports are being written
and interviews conducted.

Thousands of miles away
stocks are chased on Wall Street.

We’re falling asleep, though,
together in the sun
by the foothills on Bakers Road.

“Isn’t this the best thing ever, just doing sweet fuck all,”
you whisper.

But I can’t help think
we’re doing the only thing
to be done. 

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