Twenty per cent

The scenery
–however charming–
had a touch of melancholy triteness to it,
moon above and sea below.
It matched the inevitable presence
of clichés in our words,
I know.


« I'd say 80% of my relationship is fine.
That’s why I hold on, you see? »
You just smiled,
seemed to understand.
But teased me right away
about your trip the next day:
you’d be flying a plane to Brazil…
wouldn’t I like to go?


Tempting.
But let’s take a train
somewhere else instead,
so I stay down on earth
and you're not in control –
I should have said.


And as we kissed politely
for a second
there was an accidental touch
of breast and chest.
Then we parted,
of course.
And I was left to fantasize
about the rest.