Alighting

We tunnel out by train, alight 

at Brussels, though it could be 

any city with a cartoon museum 

and a barman aiming beermats 

at a pigeon.

                    It is time 

to see ourselves again 

in a tinted hotel mirror, 

stand side by side — us —

first-hand second-guessed. 

I put on a bracelet, you 

tuck in your shirt. Later, 

we take great care

to find the other 

in the bed’s clear half-acre.

Oenone Thomas