I’d Like to Live With You

in a one-horse town

where it’s always dusk

and bells don’t stop chiming

and the pubs echo

with old clocks

time drizzling

and sometimes, at sundown, from an attic a flute

and the player in the window

framed by big tulips

and if you didn’t love me, I wouldn’t care.

In the centre of our room – a huge tiled oven

each tile branded with an image

– rose – heart – ship –

and in the single window

snow three times.

You would lie – I love you

like this: idle, indifferent, carefree.

Now and then, the fizz

of a struck match,

the roll-up glowing down

to a tremble of ash

suspended

and you too lazy to even flick it

and everything always

on fire.