Laces

When you finally
Asked me round to yours
It was not like TV
Where everything glides
Effortlessly

Aided by the cross fade
And delicate positioning
Of shadows

Nobody bothers with laces
The actors wear shoes
Two sizes large
So they fling from the feet
With volcanic urgency

A luxury not shared by me

Broad heels and meticulous
Attention to knots
Can be a passion killer

I should have worn my boots
With the elastic ankles
But the steel caps
Make my toes bleed
And blood is such
A passion killer more

I had thoughts
Of our soft arches enfolding
Like the necks into shoulders
In those long embraces
You see at country
Railway stations

Travel bags listed in abandon

When you finally
Asked me round to yours
It was not like TV
And I don't even like TV
The loose ends tied
Are such a passion killer