Lalibela
We have
a seat by the window.
We
don’t need to talk.
We can
look out instead onto
the
grey north London street.
This
place is ours.
They
know us in here,
know
that we need this spot.
As we
shake the rain off our coats
and I
wrestle with your giant suitcase
our
table awaits with its white cloth.
In here
it doesn’t matter
that we
are what we are.
In here
we breathe.
In here
we have the table, the view,
the
silence. We have each other;
the
evening;
the
stars.
