Mañana Poem by Marcel Aouizerate

It takes a lot to guess what's coming next;
At least the purgatory has its advantages
As things may not stay forever the same.

I left early and drove to her park-in-the-rough,
The radio talked about peak-oil - I thought,
It's got to be trough-love by now. I walked
In new shoes, expected no one, hoping none
Of the surface-fears from an open cellphone.

Freedom from attraction measures itself
In inches and grams, we know it cannot
Be counted in anything else than years,
Be obtained against anything less than
Oblivion and pardon, in such order.