14.06

Yesterday, hannah and i
we sat in the park benches on stoddardt square
and talked about not being there.
In the light of the sunday sun
the ground was set against the sky
and the pigeons tried not to catch my eye.
Next year, hannah goes away for good -
to fly somewhere new, live on the run
from all the lives she's already done.
We watched restless people decamp on the grass
and a few who seemed rooted where they stood
before leaving, as restless people should.
I threw some bread to the waiting stares
of the real lords of the city's past
true londoners whom we would never outlast.