Your half pint caused me distress:
I thought if we drank enough
we might become sisters,
We talked about sex with men
and sex with women
so I thought us all inaugurated
with one another
as we organised our own bodies on the couches in our living room.
"There's a koala in you"
you told me that afternoon we drank rice tea and lived together, separately
and I felt you understood me.
When we agreed it was hard to write about love
I secretly swore never to do it.
Maybe I'll sing to you one day
some kind of country song
that I haven't written yet
about beer and bodies.
It was that man who spoke about concrete
that brought us together
and made us old to each other, known to each other.
When I washed my face
I thought about not doing it
and going out to roll in snow,
but England didn't make enough of it.