This one here is a microwave world, we are sheltering our love from love.
I sit down in a convenient store.
I drink a cup of coffee.
I look at the plastic bottles with pink lids standing on the shelves like proud flamingos.
They are indestructible promises of freedom, their feet ringed with price tags.
I admire the grandeur of ChapStick,
single use razors in their firm silence.
Here, in this strange luminance, nothing happens.
Outside, the sky is white.
All love remains accidental, waiting for us
in polyethylene bags.