A Conversation at the End of a Trip Away

A poem by Will Solomon.

There you are, my glimmering mirage,
Framed in ferns and branches,
The colours of psychedelic trances.
You’ve rolled a towel on the grass
And laid down, your arse toward the sun.
I find you hiding in a book,
A glass of wine half done.

You look above the horizon
Of your sunglasses. Your glance,
Straining against the glare, a familiar stare.
“Do I dare to eat a peach?” I joke.
“Is this Eliot or Call Me By Your Name?”
“It depends, each has its kind of shame.”
I stop and sit and poke your hip,
“I know, I know, a silly game.”

I take the wine to my lips and sip,
Then lean in near your ear.
“Hey, I’m glad we planned this trip.”
“I’ll say. Nothing like being the world away.”
“I wish we’d stay.”
You smile at me as your music plays –
Tomorrow Comes Today.

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