You and I were beautifully doomed.
With some loves, you know it’s the end before you ever really begin,
And so it was with this.
You were too elegant to settle here long.
A condor will only be happy
If you promise him a cloudless sky,
And all that I could offer you
Was routine, and queues,
And vacuuming our flat on a Sunday afternoon,
Asking you to lift your magnificent wings onto the sofa
As I hoovered about the room.
We sat in the park one afternoon,
And you looked across at me and we both knew.
You didn’t want picnics –
You wanted the majestic,
Cliff faces and ocean spray.
So I waved you up and beyond,
And when you were gone
Red wine and I were grateful that you had stayed with us awhile.
Then, too soon to smile,
I quietly folded the four corners of our cloth away.