“STREETLIGHTS” 7 May 95

Your secret life
of sleeping with me
and our love made
in quiet cold alleys

on dark Sunday Mornings
without even being laid
laid down

Your mothers no tyrant
she knows you’re twenty one
you can’t bring them back
if they don’t catch the bus gone eleven

“This is not the way I brought you up”
she once said
“No, you brought me up without love;
It’s why I do the things I do.”

Under the streetlight glare
we wouldn’t look so bad
if you changed your adolescent hair

Our kisses of lager
your flesh of closing time piss
this time I’ll give

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