THE NOD

When we’re strangers that pass each other / in the street, it will come
down to this tilt / of the head — acknowledging another / version of
events set in a new-build / years from now, a mess of a place filled / with
books and records, our kids thick as thieves / redefining all notions of
mischief.
Perhaps our paths will cross in a city / of seven hills as the light draws
your face / out from the bliss of anonymity. / Maybe you’ll be stroking the
goose-down nape / of a small child with eyes the exact shade / of those I
met across a room at the startof this pain-in-the-heart, this febrile
dance.