Through the open window
I see lovers entwined on the opposite bank,
Their feet dangling over a faded wooden boat,
Blue paint chips drifting on the water.
It's dusk for hours and we stagger
Along narrow walkways as if drunk,
Merely disoriented by change and jetlag,
Quick to learn that bikes rule this city.
Do they know that we cannot avoid seeing them
As the view from our bed faces them directly,
Until my love, the one who insists on sleeping
In caves, lowers the blinds.
I can only see them in the darkness
Of closed eyes.