These long afternoons when the trees wear halos
and show me their dark sides.
These long afternoons when the birds repeat themselves
and don’t listen to each other.
These long afternoons when I share the roses
with abandoned footballs.
These long afternoons when the quiet cul de sac whispers a future
of perfect lawns and wheelie bin stickers.
These long afternoons when truth sits on my shoulder
and puts its tongue in my ear.
These long afternoons when I know you’re not looking.
These long afternoons.