For though I long to sip milkshakes in loving unison,
and dance with you to Elvis on the swivelling stools of youth bars, now aged,
know that photographed era
was never as black and white as they memorialise.
Yes! Please long to cloak me in these cautious kisses
and lock your fingertips within mine,
but only, behind these curtains drawn
I beg only behind the backs of suburban scorn.
for though tonight we could wander these streets as one,
just know we may never return.