This is a city of ceaseless sun, sweat-smiles, sugared serotonin:
Future-You and Future-Me
Are beautiful here.

We are sitting on a bank in the South and tonguing some ironies
A clock of hot tocked hearts
And flavoured air
Is all we need.

And to realise, to have such real eyes
(No doughy doe eyes from under the sheets)
Is to forget all the foil-packed mind menders

Future-Me won't need your head pats and petty reassurances.

Please be more shut mouthed...
Nothing you can say will ever make anything better.