all or nothing till the end.

Demi-gods

talk perversely

outside my window.

     He lives next door.

     She lives down the street.

     The other lives two streets down.

     Her best friend is from another street.

     His cousin is from out of town.

Old friends come together unaware

of the burgeoning tension between them.

     Fast friends quick to become long lovers,

     flip a coin and take a guess.

          Who’s the romantic?

          Who’s the rapist?

          One or the other,

               all or nothing till the end.

Her tone of voice is the martyr.

     His words hint at a new found sexuality.

          Laugh, curse, and make up lies.

Hearing their rituals outside the window.

I see commercial colored fantasies

of youthful orgies on fresh fruit

     and unpolluted swims at the

     local watering hole.

          There is no one left alive

          to remember such antiquities.

               Was their ever?

Catch the sun.

Take it down.

Pass it around.

The cup of tomorrow has turned over.

Drink today while the going is good.

They’ll know each other before the end.

     How they’ll last is up to them.