you will be together for fifty years
starting in
the sixties when
eight years
old
we met in a
line to buy flour
because the
war was coming
heat was
spilling from the walls
onto our
bare feet
as we stood
and feared to look
-
you were a
bundle of manners
with a
future in dissidence
I could see
how your hair would grow
and what car
were you going to drive
you travelled
all Europe
wrote over
walls
that were
then turned into cult places
and I have
seen it all
-
we have lived
the war
as nations
died out
and as both
of us ceased
until this
morning
when she
told me
we would be
together for fifty years
and I knew
we could not
we have
gone out of relevance after all
-
you can
wait for me in the summer heat
you can
wait until I’m late
and maybe
then you will remember
we have met
neither of
us already alive
but still
dead we survived our whole lives
and now
there is
nothing left to live
-
you remind
me of the time
when there
were answers to fight for
and places
to sit at night
when it could
be just silent
but we are
not them anymore
you could
now spill me if you tried
and let the
last Russian dog in town
drink me as
the brothers march down