O, the nineties were something blurred

the hair long and unapologetic sights

we ran wild from club to church,

in dark caves of thundering lights

 

like young romans, or barbarians, if you will,

under loud applause at the gargoyles mass

our bodies swirled to new, exquisite vinyl

we were first in street cafes, less the cats

 

On rooftops, between Vivaldi and cheap sparkles

we sang to the setting sun, somewhat lost

hand found hand under patchwork blankets

in beech wood gardens, curled against frost

comfortably exhausted we found our sins

on each others lips and perfumed skins