The view from here

I know your toes aren't playing in the grass,
for all the rain that hasn't fallen yet
has settled in your hair. You say we owe
the view from here to no-one but ourselves.
I must have plumb forgotten every dream
in which the hills were empty but for us.
I'll turn away, though I don't want my back
to make a better target for your knives.
Who's going to wear your blindfold when I'm gone?
You'll have to eat the candy by yourself
and tell your evil twin about how you
can't dry your hair because I stole your towels.
You'd like that, wouldn't you? My phone is on.
I cannot wait to turn down all your calls.


Andrew Shields