Babylon by Ioannis Lachanis | Facebook | Etsy Shop
We’re Young and This Is the BeginningEvening we walk a garden of amethyst
marvels—structures and steel, pylons
and progress, burst-blossoms of light.
Between skyscrapers we gather close
our coats as steam swoops
from the underground, nearby
the scent of coffee and yeast
almost enough to tempt our course.
Earlier, I took your hand for the first time,
inked on your palm an address.
This is where I want us to go, that word, us,
hanging like the full moon in tonight’s dark
blue note of sky. Now, blocks away, sirens.
A woman pilfers a trashcan for dinner.
A man dead-walks into stopped traffic,
palms high. As if it will ease the desperation,
you reach for my hand. Or do I reach
for yours? We are new and believe
we need an excuse to touch.
Above us, rows and rows of windows,
like diamonds in a jeweler’s case, flash
with a thousand shiny promises. Flash
like a fevered undoing of buttons and cuffs.
At an open door we find our belonging—
a woman in jazz club shadow-smoke,
her mouth at the mic a bloom of orchid,
her voice a plume of pleasure and truth.
She sings our fortune.
Later, the streets all but empty, we walk
and walk and my shoes rub blisters but
we’re hand in hand—what’s a little pain?
Beside us the topaz river glints.