Dirty love among the tombs
When the world falls down
Will you and I even notice?
We’ve felt those rumblings beneath our feet
And dared new beginnings all the same
It doesn’t even seem ironic
That we met at the end
We both believed this love would outlive it all anyway
So, when the ruins are piled around us
We’ll fuck like monkeys atop some tumbled corinthian
The Stock Exchange, downtown?
Or maybe the Public Library up on 5th and 42nd
In a dusty beam of moonlight
On the 4th of July
The cool stone will flute your flesh
As my grimed fingers press the outline of your soot smudged hips
And the diamond dog-packs of Manhattan will howl along
When we reach our favourite bit
The pale, lonely moon won’t sanction us
The looming Chrysler
Looking down with a thousand blacked-out eyes
Could care less
It will be sad, I guess, to have only one another
And the constant sound of the rats
Making nests out of those redundant tomes
And all those piles of loot
What good ever came of all those words?
What assurances did that money buy?
The only true wisdom
I ever read was
Find what you love
And let it kill you.
All the bills in the world can’t buy a deal like that.