There is a sniper in that tall tower
Shooting at us at random
We dodge each of the bullets in tandem
And mercilessly ignore his power
To annihilate our love
With his mischief.
In between the shooting
We go back smooching
Dissolving ourselves in the penumbra
Of the dappled groves under which we sleep.
And then another shot rings out
Waking us like a watch’s beep
And we tentatively step out
Of our intoxication to feel the throb of ennui.
And then the shooting stops
A long silence punctuated only by
An owl-call and we feel bold enough to pick the
Unused shells and search the grasslands
To find diamonds, shining diamonds
The matrix of our troubled mindscape.