We sit in a black & white world,
both beautiful but sad in its ephemeral transience.
The sepia coppertone glow of the dying summer’s day
clings to the skin like granulated sweat.
It’s just you and me.
Left alone.
We are happy.
But we know
he will be back one day
to spoil it.

You show me how to pick the lock to the cupboard.
We wish we could be just frozen in this forever,
like Peter Pan.
Children living alone like adults.
But unlien in fairy stories
we know the food will run out at some point.

And in a sense we never left that moment
Those dirty hungry children are still with us.
Perhaps too much remained.
Just like we were children with too much adulthood.

For so long, I was appalled,
But now I am proud
that we tried to kill him.