Somewhere, not here,

there is little less

than a war of some scale.

The kitchens where lovers

spit over spilt chance.

The pavements on which

feet collide with feet,

shoulders meet shoulders,

whilst the glare remains

the same.

This is not here though,

here the sun beats down

whilst dogs tear at 

each others throats.

Not here though.

Here the shower is running

and I will clamber in

behind her

and you can take your wars...

they are not welcome here,

not just yet.

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